


When Sealand Spent The Night

by MadamMassacre



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Past Abuse, Past Reflection, Past Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamMassacre/pseuds/MadamMassacre
Summary: The first time Sealand spent the night at his Uncle Norway's without anyone else. They learn a bit about each other. In which, even after centuries of knowing one another there are still secrets and by the end of the day our greatest enemy is the one looking back in the mirror. (FFnet: Sealand Spends the Night)





	1. Chapter 1

Sealand didn't exactly enjoy staying over at Norway's house...of course he never truly hated it. In all honesty on his part, he enjoyed Mathias's much more. It's not that he didn't like his uncle Norway he just...his uncle never seemed to connect emotionally.

That and it possibly had something to do with the fact that this was his first time spending the night without Mathias spending the night as well. Which in Sealand's mind made no sense, why did his uncle tend to spend the night at Norway's house?

It didn't help when he had a nightmare...he hated them. Always showing up at the wrong time and the wrong place for his liking, he remembered once he walked in on his Mum and Dad wrestling.

The small nation pushed the thought to the back of his head. He just needed some sort of comfort, that's all he was asking for, hopefully, his uncle wouldn't mind. Of course, he felt that this was a bad idea and something nagged at the back of his brain not to go in but he did anyway.

The door creaked open with incomprehensible slowness to reveal a dimly lit room with three windows and a bed resting near the left wall. A slow rumble echoed in the sky signifying the storm slowly approaching the house.

Peter eyed the bed for a moment, noticing the lightly tossed sheets on it. Among them laid a medium build male with white skin and platinum hair. In some ways, his uncle seemed dead among the sheets, even as his chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed. The only indication that he was truly alive and not among the dead that night, a ragged breath fell from the man's lips as Peter looked at him from the doorway. It sounded almost like a small cry.

A low growl erupted from outside the house, starting slow before a bright strike streaked the sky above. Whatever thought that had come into the boy's head was gone. It lit up the room as the loud roar of thunder made its appearance or rather sound.

Peter jumped slightly at the noise but didn't feel afraid of it. He idly wondered if the storm was upon them or very near. He remembered his elder brother telling him of how storms worked and something about the moments in between the lightning strike and the thunder. He didn't think it had even been seconds before his uncle then suddenly burst from the sheets that once covered him. That startled Peter more than the thunder ever would.

Norway's outline was the only thing Sealand could see for a good three minutes until a short crack of lightning made its appearance again. The Norwegian seemed paler than usual in the dim light; Sealand brushed it off as just that.

For a moment, he only rubbed his eyes and looked around the room before spotting Peter at the doorway. "Peter? What are you doing here?"

Thunder rolled outside sending shivers down the small nation's spine. His uncle seemed to wince at the noise, "I had a bad dream."

"Oh," Peter watched Norway for a moment as he seemed to mumble things to himself. "Would you like something warm to drink?"

Usually, he would simply be asked to sleep in his parents or in some cases Mathias's bed, but this was Norway not his parents, not Mathias either. Norway was a bit different in some aspects.

"Yes, please," were the only words he could think to say.

The Norwegian staggered out of bed and found the light switch with a fair amount of ease. The sight only reminded him when his father had heard him scream in the middle of the night. All he heard was a loud crash and some really fast footsteps. Tino was in his room in seconds to comfort him. As for his father, when the light turned on the poor nation was on the floor of the kitchen, downstairs, they all slept on the second floor.

His Mum had made a silent vow to make sure Berwald had his glasses on whenever he was awake.

The light turned on and flickered a few times before turning on completely. Sealand squinted before his eyes adjusted to the harsh light. But something did occur to Sealand, his uncle did look fairly paler than usual...maybe it was just the fact that he had nothing but his pants on.

He realized that he had never seen his uncle without his shirt on, and, in fact, he had never seen Norway without long sleeves for that matter. He now understood why.

He was covered in disfigured scars, some that covered his arms, others that looked like nick marks from swords practically everywhere, even one that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip. There were multiple ones that grabbed his attention the more, though.

In the middle of his chest, right over where his heart would be, was a fairly fresh looking scar; it looked like someone had tried to claw out his heart. The flesh looked as though someone had taken their fingers and literally tried to rip out his heart mercilessly. Jagged marks tore away from the main scar and etched themselves into the outside skin, like lightning marks almost. Just the thought of it gave the boy a small undetectable shiver.

There was another that looked similar albeit smaller, lower and closer to the left of his chest. The smaller nation could only stare for a couple moments before the tired male turned his back slightly to him. Norway rubbed his eyes and yawned not noticing the younger nation staring at his back.

It started on the left shoulder if not covering it entirely and ran down the back of the entire side while part leaked over onto the other. It looked like a terrible burn scar; it kind of matched his actually, although his was in a different place and much smaller comparatively. He didn't want to pry on where his uncle had received such a mark either but the question still lingered in the back of his mind.

Sealand did wonder about the scars along his underarm, though, they looked exact and always going up and down, but why so many of them? On both arms, in fact, but they seemed to be deeper on the left? How strange?

...

Peter had never understood a couple things about his parents and his uncle Norway, that being their strange ability to stand the cold. Guys, it's below freezing out there you need to wear a coat. It may have something to do with the fact that around eight months of the year their countries can turn into a freezer, but what can you do?

The younger nation watched his uncle place the warm milk in from of him. Sealand snuggled in his blanket, nodding at his uncle as a silent 'Thank you' and timidly touched the ceramic surface.

It was warm but not too warm, unlike when his father practically had it boiling and his mother tended to get it far too cold for his liking. Norway seemed to have mastered the talent of warming milk. He'd have to ask the nation to teach his parents at some point.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

The question brought Sealand out of his daze of thoughts and musings. He shrugged and sipped the warm drink with care, "It...It isn't that bad I guess...it's just a scary thought that turned into a dream is all."

Peter paused, it felt awkward talking about this to Norway, but at the same time...he felt comfortable. It was conflicting really; his uncle had a relaxing aura around him that made people able to open up around him. In all honesty, that was the same thing that crept Sealand out. It wasn't like his uncle couldn't be intimidating, though, kind of like his Mum when he went to the shooting range with Dad.

Norway watched the younger with interest; it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about it. His hands were gripping the mug fairly tightly and his eyes downcast, he gave a silent sigh. Tino had a strong belief in people 'talking' about their problems rather than bottling them up.

Also, if Peter went home and told Berwald and Tino about this nightmare, oh would he get an earful from Tino and the ultimate death-glare from Berwald if that happened. But it wasn't like he could force the child to talk about his dark dream.

The Norwegian glanced again at his temporary child; Sealand was new to the family in aspects. Most of the Nordics had known each other since…he couldn't even remember anymore. Sealand was the new 'addition' and Norway was only beginning to warm up to him.

Peter then looked up his eyes full of question, "Did the thunder wake you up?"

He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, so Sealand had already been in the room when he woke up. Norway gave off a small twitch, oh how he hated feeling vulnerable. "Yes, that was one of the reasons."

Peter blinked, "Did you have a bad dream too? It's okay if you did, I know sometimes Mum does and Dad too…I don't know about Uncle Mathias though."

"Yes, I had a bad dream as well." He gave a small smile out of comfort for the smaller nation or himself, it was beyond him. Sealand seemed to think something over as Norway tried to ignore the blue eyes that roamed his multitude of scars.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was an innocent question, to be honest, but it still felt almost like prodding. Maybe this is how Peter would talk about his nightmare, offer up a little of yourself for something. Norway took a breath.

"If I tell you my nightmare then will you tell me yours?" Peter nodded slowly at the offer.

"Mum always wants me to talk about my nightmares, so I think it will help you!" For a moment, Norway only gave a blink, Peter may be a bit smarter than what people take him for.

Norway let off a small smirk as he thought back to his dream, he wished he hadn't. "It was dark, dark as it gets. Nothing in the sky but black, I couldn't see and I didn't hear anything either." The Norwegian thought back for a moment and mentally toned down some of the details.

"For a while it was peaceful, then I did start to hear things…I heard the cracking of fire burning and people screaming. But I couldn't see them, I couldn't find them and I couldn't help them. It felt eternal and there was this awful…pain…at first it stung and then it burned…like the fire I could only hear." There was a small pause as the nation collected his thoughts and looked at Sealand for any sign of fear or for him to stop, none ever came.

"It went on and on until I could suddenly hear gunfire. I felt like I was back at war…and suddenly I was fighting again. I fought until I realized that the people who once stood beside me were gone, they were all dead…that's when I woke up."

Peter was quiet as he slowly sipped his warm drink. "It sounds really bad, I once heard Dad talking to Mum about something that involved a war. It didn't sound good at all."

Norway nodded, "No it is never good." He paused, "What about yours?"

The nation didn't miss the small hitch of the other's breath as the question fell from his lips. "I was alone. All alone, not my brother or my Mum or Dad, nobody was there. I got scared and started to run, I couldn't find anyone it was like they all had left me. I don't like to be alone anymore, it's scary." The grip the smaller nation had on his cup was near shattering, Peter was afraid to be alone, truly alone, like he had practically been before they 'adopted' him.

Before Norway could say anything Sealand began again. "Uncle Norway, I know my Dad's human name, my brother's, I know my Mum's human name and I know Uncle Denmark's human name, I even know Iceland's, but I don't know yours." The younger looked at Norway, his eyes…the emotion in them was something he couldn't place.

Of course this left the Norwegian baffled, so apparently none of the others had dared mention his human name? Or it had just slipped their mind and he was none the wiser. He smirked, "Lukas."

Peter took this in, "Emil, Lukas, Mathias, Berwald and Tino."

He nodded, "Such strange names."

Lukas gave a small huff, "They're strange to you."

Sealand gave off a genuine smile at this, "Absolutely strange."

…

"Mum, why does Uncle Lukas have so many scars?" Tino could have sworn he heard Berwald choke on his drink. It did come out of nowhere to be honest.

Seeing as his husband was having a couple issues talking and breathing at the moment, Tino took this one. "Why would you say that?"

"Because both you and Dad don't have that many, I don't even think Mathias has that many and he has a lot."

"How would you know that?" Finland knew for a fact that Lukas had not once, shall he repeat not once, taken his shirt off in from of him. Although it wasn't like it was on his wish list but it never happened.

"Well, Uncle Denmark was talking about how he's been in all these battles and…"

"No, Peter I mean Norway."

The younger mouthed an O before continuing, "Well it was storming and I had a bad dream so I went into Lukas's room since I didn't know what else to do. I didn't even have to wake him up, though; the thunder did that for me." It took all the blonde had to restrain a chuckle at the thought of Norway springing from his bed at the crack of lightning.

"But when he woke up he didn't see me immediately until the next flash of lightning. So then he asked what I was doing here and I told him. He turned the lights on and he didn't have a shirt on. So, I couldn't help but notice the really big one across his chest…" Peter drew his finger from his right shoulder to his left hip.

"Then there were these smaller cuts all in random areas on his chest and belly. In the middle of his chest was this huge round circle scar with little ends sticking out at weird angles. There was another one like it, but it was smaller and less circle-like." The smaller nation paused for a breath while Berwald seemed to soak all of this information in, finally regaining his ability to breathe properly.

Tino couldn't help but wonder the origin of some of the scars his son was talking about. Sure they all had scars from battles and fights along certain blows to their country but he couldn't exactly recollect where some could have come from.

"But that's not even the worst one." Oh, he dreaded it now; Peter immediately scrambled around until his shirt was off and pointed to a medium size burn scar on his stomach.

This was obviously a memoir of when his country was literally on fire. Tino pushed the urge in the back of his mind to snuggled his child after seeing the old scar, it always saddened him. Peter was far too young to have a scar such as that.

"He has one kind of like this; only it's on his back." The smaller nation reached an arm around to his right shoulder. "It starts here and it practically covers that entire side, some of it actually was over on the left side too. I didn't want to ask about any of them, but there were so many, it was actually kind of scary."

The boy's enthusiasm died down quite a bit as he slipped his shirt on over his head again. Tino had noticed that once Peter had mentioned the burn scar on Norway's back, Sweden had gone rigid. He would have to confront his husband about it later.

Sealand all of a suddenly remembered something apparently important, "Then there were the scars on his arms…all in the same direction and so many of them, what could have done that to him?"

Tino felt his blood run cold.

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sealand's home!

Finland watched Sealand race around kitchen's island like an airplane. The smaller nation smiling and laughing as Sweden chased behind him, a smile creeping up onto his lips. "No one can catch me I'm the fastest plane in the sky!" Peter squealed as his father gave a soft smile.

Tino restrained his laughter to a giggle when Sweden swooped down and picked the smaller nation up into his arms. Basically, Peter was now practically flying, "I can fly!" he squealed excitedly, Berwald only chuckled.

Tino smiled, these moments were the ones that he guaranteed would last forever. The doorbell rang, right on time; Mathias had called earlier saying that he was going to be in town for a while. Of course being the bubbly older brother he was he had wanted to come over and see his brother and nephew.

Finland maneuvered around his husband and Sealand to answer the door. He could already see the nation jumping up and down outside, literally, he could see Denmark through the window. Tino opened the door and in jumped Mathias out of the autumn breeze. "Jeez, Fin, it's freezing outside already!"

Rubbing his arms and moving around to try and warm up, Tino grinned at the Dane's intolerance of the cold. "It's not even that cold yet Dan."

"It's cold to me, I swear, you, Svi, and Norge are all immune to the cold."

Berwald decided to wander in at the right moment, holding Sealand in his arms still as the smaller nation flailed around playfully. It took him less than a moment to see his crazy haired uncle, "Mathias!"

"Hey kiddo, Fin told me you stayed with Norge last week, did he creep you out much?" Peter leaped down from his father's arms and bounded up to his uncle.

"No, yes, no…a little…but I got to see my first troll!" Finland mentally slapped himself across the face; of course, Norway would get Sealand to see his first 'troll'.

Denmark only smiled, "Great, now you won't have to go through my experience of getting hit by one!"

Sealand giggled, "I got to see some new battle scars too! Did you know Uncle Lukas has maybe more than you? He didn't tell me stories about them, but he has one that matches mine!"

Mathias didn't miss his brother's small twitch and Finland's injured puppy look. So obviously something was going on, did it have something to do with Norge? Tino stepped in immediately, "Peter how about you go and get some of your stuff, I have to talk to Mathias real quick, okay?"

Sealand shrunk a little but did as he was told as he rushed up the stairs to his room. Finland gave a soft sigh and looked to Berwald as if there was some important secret they were going to tell him. "Alright, so what's up? Did Pete do something that I should know about or is did something happen when he was at Norge's place?"

Tino glanced to the side towards Sweden, the nation edged forward to join the conversation's circle or triangle, whichever you prefer. "It's not something that happened it's something he saw."

Denmark cocked an eyebrow, "What'd he do, find his porn collection?"

The Finnish man gave a huff of amusement; Mathias's sense of humor never faltered did it? "No, I think…" he paused, how to put this? "I think Norja…is hurting himself." Finland looked for the reaction closely as Denmark seemed to digest what he had just been told.

Mathias blinked and furrowed his brow, "What'd you mean?"

"I mean…" Tino made small glance to his husband for support and sighed before facing the Dane again. "Sealand described what sounded like self-inflicted injuries on Norja's arms."

Denmark remained perfectly still, which is terrifying, the nation was never truly still, he always had something moving, whether it be a finger or a leg. "You…you don't really think that he'd actually…but this is Lukas we're talking about…he's…"

Mathias stopped his line of speech and fell silent. His eyes fell downcast suddenly filled with question and concern practically brimming in his eyes. The Finn began again trying to look directly into Denmark's eyes. "Dan, I don't know, but that's what it sounded like and you know Lukas, you know he's been through a lot."

Mathias looked into Tino's eyes after a pause. The nation saw something in the Dane's eyes, fear, he was afraid. There were few times that Finland had actually seen Denmark scared before, the man was practically fearless but at this moment in time, he wasn't. "What do you think we should do?" Mathias's question was not something new.

The question was something that had been stirring in the Finnish man's mind for a while. It had kept him from getting a certain amount of sleep the past week now that he looked back on it. Despite not being very close to Norja in the first place he still was practically family and family looked out for each other.

"We c'ld confr'nt him 'bout it." Tino looked to the Swede, the nation kept his impassive nature, but Finland knew he was as concerned as he was.

They could, yes, but how would Norja react to it? Would he deny it or would it scare him off? Would it just make things worse? Or could they actually help him?

…

Norway lightly dozed in the light of the warm sunlight that shone through his window. Usually, he would be keeping himself busy, like reading or possibly working on some documents that had been passed to him. Today, though, not as much, he had given up reading for the day in favor of just enjoying the warm sunlight. It felt nice and made him tired despite the time of only three in the afternoon and the multitude of coffee beforehand.

Dazedly, he tried to think of what work had been passed to him recently but could only really think of some laws that his government wanted to okay with him first. Usually, this didn't happen all that much, usually it was closer to 'oh hey, yeah we passed this law last month, sorry we didn't tell you.' Despite the fact that they were personified nations, he didn't really think they ever got all that much of a say of what happened in 'their country' all the time.

His thoughts and wonderful sleepiness then were suddenly, brutally murdered when someone knocked at his door. The nation sighed and twisted his back around popping a multitude of ligaments in his spine in the process. As comfortable as the floor was, he had a guest or a drunk…maybe salesmen.

"Norge, I know your home!" On second thought maybe he shouldn't answer the door at all.

The Dane pounded on the door a second time mumbling something under his breath as he did. The Norwegian got up from the floor fully and walked to the door. Once the locks were undone he parted it slightly to see Denmark grinning wildly on the other side. "I thought you were in Finland."

The nation gave a fake pout, "Aw, Norge, no hello?"

Norway remained impassive, "Why hello Norway, it's nice to see you again." Mathias bowed formally but before Lukas could interrupt his little 'act' Denmark continued. "The pleasure is all mine, oh might the Kingdom Of Denmark!" Mathias beamed trying to mimic Norway's monotonous voice in a higher pitch, needless to say, it sounded terrible.

He could already feel an impending headache, "Denmark," the previously bowing nation straightened. "Why are you at my house?"

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes"

"…alright…I was with Fin and Sweden for a while and we decided that the Nordics hadn't met up in a while." The obnoxiously bright smile returning.

"It's been a month since the last Nordic meeting, it hasn't been that long."

Denmark's eyes widened as his puppy face fell into place. Norway still wasn't very certain if Denmark was actually fully grown or not, mentally of course. "You are still required to come, Norge!" He whined.

The nation sighed and glanced at Mathias before relenting and simply closing the door. For a moment, he noted the Dane's crestfallen expression through the window. "I'll go get something better suited on."

The Norwegian could practically hear Mathias's restrained yell of victory through the walls. Despite how hard the nation had tried to muffle it.

…

Once he had slipped into something a bit more formal, AKA his normal meeting attire. The Dane's eyes widened in a flare of happiness that never seemed to fade even when it was the darkest of days, he'd never admit it, but Norway did envy this. Sometimes he truly didn't even know how to smile, he couldn't remember the last time he smiled either.

Denmark took the Norwegian into a hug, practically dragging the struggling nation to his vehicle. "Denmark, release me." Lukas attempted to snarl, his chest, and neck tightly bound by the Dane's arms.

"No way, Norge, I'm not letting of my favorite nation, never!" Norway huffed and twisted around out of Mathias's grip. He pouted immediately of course.

"Aw, I can't hug my best friend?" Making sure to put a full foot between him and the Dane, Lukas dusted himself off and walked to the passenger side of the car.

"You can't hug and drive," He muttered while opening the door.

Denmark got behind the wheel, grinning wildly yet again, "Of course not Norge, I was just messing with you!"

Mathias could have sworn he heard the other nation say something about 'stupid Dane' but this, of course, wasn't surprising. Denmark spared a second glance at his compatriot before backing out of the drive. The Norwegian leaned against the door looking as though he was about to fall asleep. His eyelids drooping and body practically relaxed in the seat.

Ever so often Mathias would catch Norway rubbing his eyes in an attempt to keep himself awake; to say that his car ride companion was adorable right now was an understatement. At the moment Lukas was beyond cute, like sleepy kitten cute, Denmark grinned…but when had he ever stopped?

Norway seemed to be getting along just fine, no more sour than usual he would say. Maybe Fin was wrong, maybe Sealand described the scars differently than what they appeared and they weren't self-inflicted. 'We'd never really know with Norway, Denmark, it's not like he ever comes up to us and says he has a problem. Remember when he got sick, he was good at hiding that for about a week before we physically had to drag him to the E.R.'

The Dane grimaced as Tino's wonderful reminder of what had happened a couple years ago with Norge. To say it wasn't pretty was an understatement; the nation had become ill from some sort of political issue within his capital.

This was concerning in itself but after a week with no resolve, he had collapsed from it. To say it had given Denmark, a head attack was an understatement. His oldest friend had literally just fallen to the ground unconscious out of practically nowhere. But one thing was for certain; Norway was one hell of an actor and had an even better poker face than Sweden if needed.

The Dane mentally sighed, Norway could easily be…cutting himself…no one would suspect a thing until it was too late. It wasn't like he could die from it all together but…it simply wasn't healthy. Mathias resisted the urge to gently stroke the now sleeping nation's face as he thought about how long this could have been going on.

He knew that Lukas never really wore any short sleeves; any injuries on his arms would be concealed quite well. The nation didn't like being hugged or touched which was dually noted by many of the others so he was never in danger of being found out that way. Denmark was the only one who really hugged him and that was around Norway's chest and abdomen.

Obviously if the nation had been injuring himself on his arms then there wouldn't pain when he was hugged. Mathias glanced at the Norwegian again and let the car roll to a stop at a red light. Carefully he edged close to the nation and made sure he was actually asleep. No reaction occurred, the Dane pushed down the feeling of dread in his stomach as he lifted the fabric that covered Lukas's arms. He glanced at the light for a second and gently pulled the sleeve up slightly.

Denmark resisted the urge to jump back as he saw what Sealand had been describing although instead of only scars he saw scabs. Slowly lowering the fabric back into place the light turned green. A couple cars behind him honked as he finally took off down his designated road.

Mathias choked back a small sob, swallowing the mass that had formed in his throat. He could feel the hot tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to focus on the road. Norge…what happened?

…TO BE CONTINUED…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: AKA, my horrible attempt at making a family moment. Oi...  
> ~MadamMassacre~EarlyMorningMassacre~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before.

4:14 A.M.Central European Time Zone

The moon shone in through the window onto the floor of his room lighting it up with a whitish hue, tree branch's shadows etching themselves on the walls as if they were painted on. The sheets of his bed had been lightly tossed something very usual at this time of night for him anymore. Norway lying tangled in the soft, blue sheets and blankets, eyes still sealed shut and mind not fully aware of his surroundings quite yet.

Lukas, for the third time that night, shoved his head into the pillow as the fog of his mind cleared. It had been just another dream if it could be classified as such a thing. The Norwegian tightened his grip on the blanket under him as if securing some sort of anchor to the world he knew.

He opened his eyes and looked around his room, the same setting he had found himself accustomed to just about every time he had woken up to for the past couple of decades or so? The moonlight that flooded the room making it seem a bit different than it did in the light of a lamp or the sun.

Norway rubbed his hands over his face and eye sockets and glanced at the clock that read 4:17 A.M it didn't seem like the time to get up. Although his body still longed for sleep Lukas reasoned that he would only wake up an hour or so later from either his alarm or another terror.

The nation stretched out listening to his joints pop and crack. Swinging his legs out of bed and landing his feet onto the floor; he felt the soft, cold carpet beneath him and stood. Staggering a bit before fully getting his balance he made his way to the door, switching on the light for a bit of visibility in the hallway, he didn't fancy falling down the stairs.

Flicking the switch into the on position the lights turned on, bright and temporarily blinding Norway managed to find the stairs and went to the ground floor. Coffee sounded wonderful, of course, when didn't it? He didn't bother turning on the light for the living area or the kitchen much less any other room. The moonlight swimming through the windows was enough for him to maneuver his way around downstairs.

Switching the hallway light off, the nation made his way through the threshold and into the kitchen. The moon still lighting his way, the Norwegian ran his hand over the island in the middle of the kitchen in some odd act of nostalgia, he honestly wasn't very sure where the habit came from.

Flipping the overhead light on to see what he was grabbing Norway almost mechanically readied the coffee pot and turned it on. The familiar scent of coffee grounds meeting his nose, it smelled like morning to him.

Leaning against the counter with the heels of his palms, facing the door on the other side of the house he stared at nothing, his eyes glazed over in thought. The nightmares came, no matter what he did, he hadn't even been thinking about World War II in a while and yet the events just kept coming back to him every time. When did the nightmares start? Norway couldn't even remember anymore it had been so long.

Although he closed his eyes, tightening his grip on the counter, there were other things that hadn't come from the time during The Great War. Little memories flashed over in his mind as he reminisced about when he had been taken over by Denmark.

It wasn't the most pleasant time of his existence but it didn't seem like the worst either. In later years more than anything things started going terribly, being forced into the Dane's language and culture had been very painful. Excruciatingly painful in not just physical ways but mental, it messed with him, it really did. To the point, he hadn't even really known his own name for a while.

When the majority of his people forgot their culture, their language, and even some forgot their own country's name, simply referring to it as some sort land off of Denmark. Although he did remember when Mathias had realized what was going on, didn't do very much about it but acknowledged it. The Dane had always been extremely oblivious to the world around him. But during those times, he was more of a brute who took what he wanted and never let go.

Sweden and Denmark also had a nasty habit of getting into fights with one another. Sometimes resulting in wars between the two brothers and marks he'd rather forget he had.

Whenever the fights had gotten too violent and without reason, Norway had intervened, not for either or their sake, though, more Iceland's if anything. Emil had always hated to see fighting, especially between Dan and Sve.

Usually, he had gotten in-between them and they stopped after they realized they were no longer hitting each other. Although, he would never admit that it was a bit for the benefit of getting the two not to inflict as much damage to one another as they could.

The two would always find something to fight about, even Norway himself. Sometimes he thought that he was an excuse for them to punch each other. It all changed once Finland came along, though. The bubbly nation had stolen Sweden's heart that was for sure.

After he had realized that Berwald was a homosexual and after he had realized Sweden had been advancing on him for some time. When he had really come to the realization he had felt extremely embarrassed about it and after that gave Sweden a wide berth for a while.

Once happy Finny came along the fights became less and less until Sweden wasn't even around that much. But that didn't stop what Dan had been known for in those times, his temper. It was once that Berwald had come back after one of his long outings with Finland that he had asked for independence. This had resulted in a massive fit on Dan's part.

It was also a fist fight Norway had not participated in, he stayed in Iceland's room, comforting the small nation from the loud noises downstairs. When Iceland was fast asleep he took off to find Denmark and Sweden. At first, he had expected to see the two together but he didn't expect them to be far apart, one alone the other far off somewhere.

Norway didn't need to look very long; he had allowed himself the luxury of a tracking spell to find Denmark and the same for Sweden. Even though he felt the latter was fine with Finland. Denmark had been lying in the snow on his back, there wasn't much blood suggesting that he was alive but unconscious. When he had looked into the Dane's memories of recent events he felt something crack within him. To this day, Norway didn't truly know what snapped in him but then something changed.

Years flew by and he was taken by Sweden after his precious Finland was taken by Russia. At the time Norway had been both grateful and full of hatred for Berwald, taking him from Iceland and forcing him to abandon his brother. Later on did he realize that Sweden had become very lonely without his bubbly Fin. Lukas, however emotionally cut off he was from everyone else, was practically the only thing the Swede would call a friend.

His brows furrowed as he felt a sudden warmth flow over his body and a brighter, yellow light flowed past his eyelids. Lukas squinted while opening his eyes fully to the bright, beautiful colors of a Norwegian sunrise. His land was quite beautiful, even under the bed of winter and even more so in the summer and spring.

The scent of coffee filled his senses as he was drawn to the pot suddenly. Taking the cup he had strategically placed next to the coffee maker the night before. Pouring it fully and placing the pot back on the heating pad to keep it warm, instant coffee was never as good as some coffees but it was quick and easy. Blowing in the steam that wafted from the cup, he trotted over to the far window in the living area finding that the colors were drawing him in to watch the gorgeous sunrise. Christ, he was such a girl.

Pulling back the curtains to see better, he looked out onto the landscape beyond. Winter wasn't fully upon them yet, it was only cold still, not snowing yet. Although he would welcome such a thing as snow now, it had the effect of covering some of the dead plants and leaves if not all.

Norway gave a slow blink and took a sip of the warm drink. A small nagging feeling made itself known in the early light of the morning, for a moment it was ignored until he realized he could feel eyes on him. He soon realized he was being watched after a few moments of standing there, shirtless… for a couple of minutes now, if not ten.

Norway had forgotten that he was staying in his 'suburb' home in…Trondheim? Was that the name of the place? Well, just goes to show how much he pays attention sometimes. He didn't even really remember why he bought the place other than for the heck of it. Somewhere else to move to if needed, hopefully, to keep out of the way of the annoying Dane.

But never the less he had been spotted. He wasn't quite sure who she was, he hadn't picked up many names around the place at all. Although Norway had seen two young males around four or five playing in her yard the other day, he assumed she was the mother or, at least, the caretaker.

Her house was slightly ajar to his being the house over to the left; the houses were arranged oddly to the point where the one to the left was practically facing the front part of his own place. It was an odd setup but it worked none the less, but it also made 'spying' on quiet, reserved neighbors so much easier.

The woman hadn't noticed the fact that he had caught onto her staring gaze much less turned away. Norway set his coffee cup down on the window sill and tried to ignore her prying eyes, he wanted to enjoy the sunrise without interruptions. He wasn't going to let his appearance taunt him off.

Though her eyes on him, he could practically feel them looking him over, Lukas wasn't quite sure what she was so interested in any way. He didn't have that great of a physique so it couldn't be that… he had a habit of forgetting sometimes. Humans weren't usually witnesses to such scarring, especially in the area, but who was he to blame, their lives were so short they could only see a minuscule fraction of what he had seen.

He sighed and looked directly at the woman, for a moment her eyes didn't meet his until she suddenly realized that he had noticed her gaze. Shyly she blushed and turned away, hiding behind her maroon curtains. She was obviously embarrassed at being caught staring at someone, considering the fact that it was a little rude.

Norway shook his head, she meant nothing by it, he didn't blame her for it, and it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered in the end anyway...

...TO BE CONTINUED...


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing ever really mattered, that's what he always told himself anyway. He pulled the curtains closed, rubbing his shoulder. The past was long gone and there wasn't anything he could change or do about it. But he had still made plenty of mistakes and failed a number of times for his people and family. Even now he could still feel the guilt for these numerous times.

Norway gently ran the tips of his fingers over the mildly bumpy scars on his arms; they always felt more numerous every time. Of course, why wouldn't they be? A bitter laugh escaped his lips at the thought.

It's not like he was the only one to do something like this to his body. He knew for a fact that a multitude of nations had lost their minds in the moment and practically destroyed their bodies, one with a piece of glass of all things. Some had put a bullet in their temple or a gun in their mouth, others got a bit more creative, drowning, running into the street, burning to death; the list was endless. Every country had at least tried to commit suicide once or at the least a form of self-mutilation. He just happened to be the one that tended to do it more often and had done it for far longer.

It wasn't like he did it every day, though, last he checked it had been some time since he had last… cut himself. It sounded so vulgar when he put it like that, 'cutting', slicing the skin open and letting it bleed until sometimes he couldn't even feel the limb anymore. Sometimes bleeding out in the night and drifting away into oblivion until three days time. To rest, to not be a part of the world for a total of thirty-six hours. It was blissful, but when you came back every time Norway found the world was still the same and he had to live in it. Until the end of his country and people.

Other times it was to simply endure a different type of pain, just to forget. Nations had a nasty habit of not staying dead unless they're government, people and land were in horrible shape or divided. But sometimes there were exceptions, he had heard of a couple of them, rumors mostly, that once another personification killed another personified nation they tended to stay dead longer. Only rumors, though, nothing for sure.

Norway raised his arm up, looking over the faded scars on his left arm; little, barely skin penetrating marks littering the inside of his arm. He had discovered that even in his sleep now he tended to injure himself somehow. His skin practically itched and he couldn't help but scratch at it in annoyance, the skin turning red and raw from its abuse.

The nation pulled back balling his hand into a fist in annoyance, it's not like he wanted to be like this; just… he couldn't stop it sometimes. Weak, little Norway, always so unsocial, always quiet, the man that was mean to the happiest country on Earth and a total ass to those around him no matter what. He couldn't stop his own brother from being taken away from him; he couldn't stop any of the wars that came his way after his glorious Viking days. He was nothing even after his beautiful country evolved and grew. But no-one really cared anyhow.

He knew Denmark didn't really care, he could see past his large grin and pet names for Norway. Denmark was still the man he was when he took over the others, a savage; he took what he wanted and never gave it back. He would never give up his favorite possession his sweet, terrible Norwegian personification. But was Norway so different?

Back then when he raided England over and over without mercy until there was nothing left to salvage from his lands. He knew the nation never really forgave him for that, he never would, who would forgive him anyway?

Sweden only cared for his new family now, his beloved Finland and adopted son Peter. The Swedish man probably never thought about Norway that much anyway, because really where did he fit into that equation? Babysitter probably, and even then he knew Peter feared him, he knew why too.

Finland pitied him because of his outcast like personality. Seeing him as something that needed it more than anything else and even then the Finnish sniper had other things to worry about. No, he really didn't matter to anyone, even his own flesh, and blood, Iceland.

He knew why Iceland was like how he is, it was his fault to begin with, he should never have left the younger alone with Denmark for that long. He could only imagine what he went through. Iceland more than likely blamed him for what had happened to him in that time.

And what did he ever do for his people? Nothing, absolutely nothing, they didn't need him anymore and they never did…

Norway didn't even notice when his hand had uncurled itself, he didn't even realized when his dull nails began scratching and breaking open the skin. Lukas squeezed his eyes shut feeling the dull sting of tears, he didn't want to cry, he was above that. The Norwegian released his grip on his arm, placing his red-coated palm on the wall, head down in thought. The cross pin tugging on his hair and threatening to fall to the floor.

He knew that the blood would leave a stain on the light colored wall and he'd have to remove it somehow but right now he didn't want to think about that. Taking a sharp breath Norway pushed off the wall and ran his hands through his hair. The cross pin falling to the ground with a loud ping that echoed around the barely lit house. Unloved, unneeded, hated and a possession, that's all he was… that's all he'd ever be.

Lukas sucked in a breath and rubbed his eyes in annoyance with his clean hand. It was like his drug only deadly if needed be. He knew where he kept the blades for he could never forget; he never locked the drawer, not once in his long life. He lived alone, he didn't need to lock it, no one would ever know, no one would ever care.

He hadn't even realized where he was for a moment before he felt a sudden and small pain. It always came like that, quick and painless at first, and then it began to hurt more on his body and less in his mind. Norway just stared at the trickles of blood running down his arm dripping into the sink and around it. In some ways, blood reminded him of his flag, both the same reddish color when blood left the body that is.

Norway lightly let the blade sit on the skin of his left arm again the cold metal feeling more inviting than anyone would ever be.

The Norwegian roughly pulled the towel down from the bar making a satisfying noise as it came off. Rubbing the towel all over his platinum blonde hair as an attempt to dry it off enough so he wouldn't trek water all over the house. Norway, once satisfied with his work, draped the towel over his shoulders and stepped out. He decided to ignore the red spots appearing on the tile floor beneath him, he'd clean them up later.

Opening a cabinet he shuffled through some of the medical supplies he had, easily finding some large bandages and gauze. They weren't life threatening but since most tended to be drawn to using one hand over the other the opposite arm tended to bleed more than the other. He preferred not to have blood stains on any of his shirts or anything else; they rarely ever came out easily.

Norway wrapped them up in about two to three minutes, giving him some reassurance that no one would know. Looking at himself in the mirror he simply stared back into his own oddly purple eyes. Who was he really?

Lukas watched a small shift of the light the reflected onto the mirror as he noticed for only a brief second, eyes that did not belong to him. He sighed and turned away, he should probably get some clothes on.

Present Time and Place:

Denmark gnawed on his nonexistent fingernails a metallic taste in his mouth from making them bleed a bit. He wasn't focused on that, though. Once every so often he would glance over at Norway from the road he was supposed to have his full attention on, but he couldn't help it.

The Dane gripped the wheel a bit tighter as he passed through another intersection without looking; he was going to get himself killed one of these days. Lukas was still asleep, thank Odin, if he was awake he may ask to be let out of the car and walk the rest of the way if he saw the way Mathias was looking at him.

He had debated about calling Tino but decided against it since he was already distracted as it was. Denmark bit into the skin on the tip of his finger, giving a high-pitched squeak, groggily Norway woke up. "What is it, Dane?"

He swallowed, "Nothing."

A half lidded glare directed itself at Denmark as the Norwegian leaned against the window again and closed his eyes. Internally Mathias reprimanded himself, 'Den you really are an idiot you know that?'

Giving Norway another sideways glance Denmark made sure to stop gnawing on his hand. They'd be at the building in about five minutes or so until then he had to prepare for all hell to break loose. He knew Norge better than anyone, and Norway also knew him better than anyone, which meant when he decided to be coherent he'd realize something is up. Especially with his now bitten to the quick fingertips and nails, old habits die hard. He was fairly certain the tips of his fingerprints were gone at this point.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Denmark thought over what could really happen once they got there. If he managed to get Norway into their official meeting place, he'd probably have to lock the door or something. Lukas after denying everything may pick flight over a fight and flee. He knew for a fact that his friend was excellent at hiding, besides Sealand that is. He could pull a disappearing act in only a few seconds.

Glaring at nothing particularly the Dane tried to ease his shaking body. He didn't know what to think or to do. How bad had Norge gotten? He knew that his friend was a bit closed and like his privacy but had that been something to cover up what he was doing? He had always been a bit of an introvert but really was that all he was?

Norge had been through quite a bit in his long life, he guessed eventually it had to build up into something… they all had their ways of coping. Perhaps this was Norway's way of coping, whether it be very healthy or not.

Denmark put on the brakes and slowed the car to a stop before swinging around into the alleyway behind a couple of buildings. Once he reached the third building he swung into the small parking area behind it. Another car sat beside his, Berwald's Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG Black Series that had nothing to do with a mid-life crisis. Not one bit, he just liked the way it looked, keep telling yourself that Berry.

Denmark was about to poke at Norway before he noticed that the nation was already taking his seat belt off. "Good morning sunshine." He smiled, a mocking tone in his voice.

"Shut it, Dane." With a gruff response, the Norwegian got out of the car and went up to the door opening it and going inside without another word. Denmark blinked, so getting him inside didn't seem to be the issue. Hopefully, he'd let them help him.

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	5. Chapter 5

Finland tapped his fingers on the table in a set rhythm ironically to the tune of 'Dancing Queen', damn that Swede for playing it before they got here. He had heard the door open not too long ago so it meant Denmark had returned from his trip to pick up Norway. Now for the hard part, how in hell's name was he going to word this?

'Norway, so I heard…' no, no, no, 'We've become increasingly concerned about something that was mentioned…' this wasn't going to go well. Maybe he could just wing it and pretend that this was an actual meeting and once it was over kind of edge onto the topic a bit. Yeah, that could work, right?

Finland bit his lip he really had no idea how this was going to go down. Tino eyed Sweden for a moment noting his husband's tense shoulders and vacant eyes. Berwald was deep in thought; he didn't know what he was going to do either. "Sve, I think Tanska came back, he should be up with Norway in a minute or two."

The Swede gave a grunt of acknowledgment and cracked his knuckles; old habits die hard he guessed. The door opened to reveal Norway looking a bit tired from the ride. He looked around the room obviously noticing that Iceland wasn't among them. "Where's bror?"

Tino felt his heart speed up; they had decided to keep Ice out of the loop for this one. Lucky for him Sweden had prepared for this bit, "Ice h'd 'ther things to do."

Lukas mumbled something under his breath and found his seat at the far end of the table. Setting the bag he had brought with between the table leg and the chair leg to keep it upright. "Dan didn't give any specifics on what exactly this meet up was about so I just brought things that were recent."

Denmark crept in through the door next, slowly shutting it and silently locking it from the outside. He felt kind of bad doing this but if he didn't he was pretty sure they may never see Norge for a good year or so. In his opinion, it seemed like the best option.

Finland took a breath as Denmark found his seat right next to Norway. The Norwegian eyed the Dane suspiciously, he was being very quiet. Far too quiet for the normally extremely energetic Dane, he brushed it off as a calm before the storm. Tino coughed into his fist, grabbing the attention of the room. Why was he the one to volunteer to do this again?

"Actually Nor, this meeting isn't about anything that we've really discussed recently, in terms of business that is." Norway only stared back with his usual expression.

The Finn really hated that man's poker face; it unnerved him to not know what's going on in his head. "Nor, can I see your arms?"

Lukas's brows furrowed, "Why would you want to see them?"

"Norge," all eyes shifted to Denmark, his hands intertwined and resting just below his nose. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed and pupils practically in slits. Giving the Dane a very serious looking demeanor, something he was not known very well for. "We already know about the scars and the cuts."

Norway just stared at him; he could practically feel a piece of his mask crack and fall the ground, shattering into a million, tiny pieces. Denmark looked oddly calm under the Norwegian's gaze, still, in the same pose he had been only moments ago. Finland turned back to the Norwegian. "We want to help Nor."

Slowly he turned his head, eyes half lidded. "Forgive me, but there's nothing you can do, I'm not worth your time."

He stood up, pushing the chair from the table in a relaxed manner and strode to the door. Placing his hand on the handle faintly he heard Berwald stand and come towards him but Lukas wasn't too worried about it. Gently he pulled on the handle letting off small shock through the metal with his magic. Easily moving the tumblers into the right position and opening the door with ease.

Before any of the other could do anything about it, he went out the door and closed it behind him. Finland stayed at the table for a moment, looking at the empty seat. He had expected rage or denial but not that. He looked at Denmark who now had his eyes shut. Sweden stood from his chair hands firmly planted on the wooden table as though he was about to take off after him.

Finland sighed, "So are we going to go after him?" Mathias slammed his fist on the table causing a small jump on Tino's part. "Dan?"

Recoiling his hand the Dane abruptly stood up; balling his fists he stormed out the door after Norway. Sweden quickly grabbed the Dane's wrist before he could completely leave them, "Don't you d're go wi'out us, he's our f'mily too."

Finland couldn't really see the look Dan returned but he was almost certain it wasn't one of his reassuring smiles. Denmark yanked his arm out of the Swede's grasp and slammed the door behind him. Faintly he heard Sweden give a low snarl under his breath before glancing Finland. Taking the hint, Tino motioned for Berwald to go on and follow them. Silently telling his husband that he would catch up. Nodding, Sweden took off after the Dane and Norway. Once he heard the familiar click of the door shutting, Tino gave a sigh of something akin to relief.

Making his way around the table he turned off the lights, picking up the bag that Norge had left behind along with the Norwegian's jacket. He'd probably want them back once he was found... who knew how long that would be. They had just violated one of his oldest rules or boundaries. Don't ask him about his personal life, ever. If there was one thing he was known for that would be his desire to keep just about everything about himself private and need to know. And they didn't need to know.

Tino glared at the far wall in the darkened room. Sometimes he truly wished some of his Northern neighbors weren't so stubborn about asking for help.

Denmark swore to whatever overpowered being was still out there that he had been walking the streets for hours. How in the hell had Norway disappeared so quickly? He had left only seconds after Lukas was out the door. The Dane grunted and let out a puff of air, watching the water vapor cloud out into the air and float away. Shoving his hands in his pockets Mathias gave a barely noticeable shiver as he looked across the street, noticing the white flecks in the air.

It was starting to snow, little snowflakes dancing in the air and impacting the ground, melting to nothing. Such beautiful things meeting such untimely demises, he was on the outskirts of the city by now, near the park. If he remembered correctly the entire park was about 456 acres. He'd only been in the park itself a few times, but it was still not too short of gorgeous, couple hiking trails, biking trails, rivers, caves and other things. All in all, quite a beautiful place to go and relax. Denmark looked across the street for a couple more moments, gazing into the snow-dusted pines.

He could have smacked himself; he'd been looking in the wrong place. Darting across the road, hopping around some of the cars that had been driving down the road only to find a tall, blonde, red-garbed lunatic making his way through traffic. A couple very loud apologies were heard from the Dane before he found the other side. Flying into the forest he took off through the trees. Stupid, stupid, stupid, idiot! Why would Norge want to stay in the city when he had a nice large wood to run around in! Dammit, he needed to find Norge; he needed to call Sweden in case he got lost too. Did he even have his phone...? Denmark skidded to a halt, shuffling around his coat pockets to find that no, he didn't have his phone. The air around him turned blue. To make things worse, the snow was falling faster and it was getting colder.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking, seemed like a couple minutes maybe more. The pines were so pretty here, still green and seemingly alive. Unlike most of the other trees that looked very sad and dead. It had been a while since he'd last seen any sign of civilization; although he enjoyed the silence of the forest around him much more than the city. It was a predictable move, he even knew it was but he couldn't stand the noise anymore so he left to the park.

He'd lost his shoes a while ago; his feet were getting kind of cold now. Looking back, Norway noted that he had no idea where they had fallen off so retrieving them was useless. They were probably covered by snow by now anyway. Rubbing his shoulders for a bit of warmth Lukas looked to the sky. Watching the snowflakes dance to the ground piling on top of one another. Maybe he should have grabbed his jacket before he left too. But it was a bit late for that as well.

He wasn't lost, he knew where he was and he knew how to get back. He just didn't want to go back.

The Norwegian looked down at his cold feet, noting that the bottoms had turned a hideous purple, the first sign of frostbite. It sounded like someone was running around in the woods too. He could hear faint footfalls moving fast; maybe someone was out for a jog. People had a tendency of choosing rather odd times to do that sometimes. He wouldn't put it past some random citizen to be out and about in this cold weather. He was too, so really he had no room to talk.

"Norge!" that's all he heard before he fled.

He took off faster than he'd ever had before. He could hear Denmark in the distance somewhere behind him. Comparatively, he knew Denmark was faster that he was, eventually, the Dane would catch up. Lukas turned his head around to try and see Mathias but couldn't pick him out of the trees. He could be anywhere and Norway wouldn't know where until it was too late.

The Norwegian pushed on, stumbling over sticks and rocks. He still couldn't see Dan, but he could hear him. Norway stumbled again this time on a rock that had been covered by the snow, although this time he didn't recover. He fell to the ground with a hard thud, that was going to bruise. Tossing himself onto his back he looked around frantically, he couldn't hear Mathias anymore. Lukas sat up from the cold snow underneath him looking around for something that might resemble the Dane.

But the snowfall had gotten thicker; he could barely see anything now. Falling back he attempted to calm his breathing, running his hands through his hair he noticed that something was missing. There was no weight on the left side of his bangs, he'd never put his cross pin back in. Silently, Lukas wondered if he ever really noticed that it had fallen out. He sighed letting his hand fall to the snow covered ground. Now here he was truly alone.

Bitterly he smiled as the snow fell down from the heavens, piling upon each other to make drifts and oceans of snowflakes. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was no longer aware of anything and nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not even the crunch of the snow or the feeling of being dragged or even lifted. Yes, nothing seemed to matter.

Denmark looked down at the Norwegian; he seemed peaceful laying there in the snow. The Dane knelt down touching the ice cold skin of Norway's neck. Tilting his head up he looked around for any sign of shelter, he knew there was a cavern not too far from here they could bunk until the storm passed. Finding it would be a problem, though, the snow was getting heavier with every minute he wasted.

Mathias lifted up his friend's upper body from the snow, getting the Norwegian's cold body into his arms. If Norge ever found out about this he would kill him but at the moment, he didn't seem to mind or possibly didn't notice. He was probably numb at this point anyhow. Denmark turned his head in all directions trying to see through some of the white out but really all he could see were the outlines of dreary looking trees and pines. "C'mon… it's got to be here somewhere."

Blindly he moved forward into a direction he guessed was the right way. Vaguely he remembered walking these trails once or twice and finding the cavern. It wasn't anything spectacular really but it was just enough to keep safe from the wind. That's when he saw it and thanked his luck that he'd gone in the right direction.

Norway awoke with a start, wasn't he in the snow? So why was he so warm all of a sudden? Hazily he looked around; it was dark but lit enough for him to see. He spotted Denmark almost immediately. Or rather felt him immediately. It took a few moments for him to realize that the man was curled against his back trying to warm him up. Norway squirmed and tried to get out of the Dane's grip but felt him tighten. "Norge, stop, you're okay."

Lukas gave a growl, elbowing Denmark in the stomach. Hearing a satisfying grunt Norway detached himself from the Dane's embrace. Backing up in an improvised crab crawl he watched nation easily recover. Mathias laughed still holding his gut, "Jeez Nor, you really scared me."

Norway continued to glare for a moment and crawled back further. Eyeing the dark cavern, looking for a way out. The Dane crawled over to the Norwegian, smile still present. His hand brushed against Norway's face, he could feel the calluses on his fingers against his skin before jerking away. "I'd never hurt you Norge." Denmark purred hoping to calm Norway down. Lukas tried to look anywhere but his eyes. Looking over at the wall at first and then to the other, fiddling with his dry hands endlessly.

Denmark advanced on him, placing a rough hand on his companion's neck. Norway shot back, scrambling on all fours to the other side of the room. His feet dragging along the cold rocks, scraping away bits of skin from the frostbitten appendages. The Norwegian hit the far wall of the cave in only a matter of moments, he felt cornered. Like some sort of weak, little animal, prey to a hungry predator.

Mathias let his hand drop to the ground and stood up, his smile fading and replaced with a look of worry. Walking over to Lukas and kneeling down again. Norway recoiled, his head in his arms and knees tucked up to his chest. "C'mon Norge, what have I done to you that was so bad?"

Denmark reached out again, softly touching the Norwegian's head. The reaction was a bit unexpected. Norway's head shot out from his arms, mouth open and effectively grasping the flesh in Mathias's hand. The Dane gave a soft hiss but didn't back away. Lukas's bloodshot eyes stared directly into Denmark's own, unwavering and unblinking. It terrified him.

Norway released the hand from his mouth and took off running. Tripping over his feet periodically as he ran to the mouth of the cavern. It was practically a white out beyond the entrance if he could get past that he would be free.

Denmark leaped from his position, sprinting after his companion. "Norge!"

The Norwegian stumbled but didn't falter; he didn't even know why he was running anymore. He just knew he needed to stay away from the others. Norway pushed himself faster as he realized that the entrance was only seconds away. He felt the cold, wet snow touch his feet and the flakes dance onto his pale skin before melting. But he also felt the warmth of two arms wrap around his waist and then he was falling.

Denmark brought the Norwegian near his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around Lukas so that he wouldn't escape. Norway flailed and bucked against the Dane, growling like a wild beast. His sharp elbows hitting the Dane over and over, stubby fingernails clawing at clothing and rough, dry skin until it bled. But Mathias didn't let go, he'd never let go again.

Pulling himself up Denmark tried to drag Norway back into the cave but the floor was littered with sharp rocks and stones. Each time Lukas flailed around he'd cut himself on them or even if he didn't move around his feet would surely get cut from the rocks either way. Mathias swung the Norwegian's upper body over his shoulder. It wasn't very comfortable but it would provide the Dane with enough of an advantage to get the nation back into the safety of the cavern.

Norway tried to roll off but was blocked by Mathias's arm. He kicked his legs around a bit but it was no use. The Dane pulled him off his shoulder without many problems and onto the ground. The Norwegian bucked and tried to get to his feet again before Mathias took his wrists in his hands pinning them to the ground. Swinging a leg over as if Norway was only a fence, successfully keeping him bound to the rocky ground. Denmark kept him there for what felt like hours.

Lukas swung around and struggled but found it was no use, the Dane had pinned him. He wasn't going anywhere soon. "Norge," finally Norway calmed completely and looked to the other wall again. His eyes still bloodshot, slowly, agonizingly Norway looked into Denmark's eyes without mirth or anger.

He didn't know what to expect to see there, he had at least anticipated a red ring around his pupils that the Dane was so known for when angry. Possibly a look of disappointment or pity but he didn't expect the tears nor the fear in his eyes. Denmark loosened his grip on the Norwegian's wrists, running a finger down the inside of his arm. Mathias could clearly see the scars and marks on Lukas now. They looked painful and probably stung like hell for the first few days.

The Dane was careful not the reopen more scabs than he already had. "Lukas… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry that I'm loud and annoying to you. I'm sorry for how I treated you all those years ago. I'm sorry about anything I did to hurt you or wrong you… I'm sorry that I never noticed and I want you to know that… you're my family! And family sticks together and helps each other no matter what! You got that Norge?"

At this point Norway could clearly see tears running down Mathias's face, some dripping onto his shirt and others onto Norway. The Dane sniffed and pulled Lukas into a tight embrace, his face buried for a moment in the Norwegian's chest. Denmark's spiky hair rubbing against his neck Norway heard him utter a couple more words of apology. "I'm so sorry Norge, I didn't know you were hurting this much."

Slowly Norway wrapped his arms around Denmark, bits of blood rubbing off on the Dane's red shirt. "There's nothing you have to be sorry for Mathias."

...TO BE CONTINUED...


	6. Chapter 6

Denmark wasn't quite sure when he heard the wind stop last night nor was he very certain if he did hear the wind stop. All he really remembered was Norge's embrace and how he, for what felt like the first time in forever, wasn't the only one that didn't want to let go. Matthias could remember the tears bleeding into his jacket and at first only from him. It took a while before he realized that he wasn't the only one crying.

He remembered moving deeper back into the cave and gently removing Norway from his chest if only for a moment or two. Using his coat as a blanket and with a bit of improv, using his tie as a temporary bandage on the Norwegian's cut foot. He remembered that Norge was practically frozen solid and hadn't been very willing to let go of his warm companion. Then again, once the Dane had lain down next to Lukas again he was practically fused with the nation. Denmark was still wrapped around the Norwegian too, Norway burying himself into the Dane's chest. Arms wrapped around Denmark's abdomen, so tight he could barely breathe.

Mathias didn't dare move from Lukas's side either. If he did, he feared that the nation would disappear and fade away back into the snow. Denmark clung a bit tighter, he could still feel Norway's slight shivers, whether from the cold or from hypothermia he wasn't sure. All the Dane was really sure of was that he was still shaking himself. Which now that he looked at it he might not be feeling Lukas's shivers but thinks he is because he's shaking.

He can feel his phone vibrating in his coat pocket. Denmark idly wonders if it's Svi calling him. The Swede must be in a minor state of panic himself, despite his stoic outer shell. Two members of his Northern Family are missing and a snow storm has just passed through. At this point, Sweden's probably more looking for frozen corpses rather than warm bodies. Denmark doesn't blame him either, if that is what Sweden is looking for, he'd probably be looking for the same thing if it was him.

The phone stops vibrating and Denmark glances out the mouth of the cave. He can barely see out there, it's so bright with fresh snow. The storm had stopped after all. Carefully shifting himself away from Norway but not once completely giving up physical contact, Mathias managed to lift Lukas up into his arms. They couldn't stay here; he knew that, as much as he didn't want to leave, they had to. His best buddy wouldn't get any better in a cold, damp cave.

Denmark moved the coat completely around Norway's body, catching a small glimpse at his supposedly sleeping form. Even in sleep, Lukas didn't look quite peaceful, as if even in his subconscious he was still tortured. A grimace passed over the Dane's face, if only he had noticed sooner, maybe then none of this would have happened.

Norway shifted, trying to get closer to his source of warmth. Denmark traipsed out into the daylight, lowering his eyelids to the point of barely seeing anything before his eyes fully adjusted. It was still chilly but not as cold as it had gotten earlier. The phone began to vibrate again, Denmark shuffled precious cargo around and answered swiftly, whether or not it was Svi, he hadn't checked.

He was met with something he hadn't expected. "Danmark!"

That's all he really heard before he had to remove the receiver from his ear for prevention of loss of hearing. Slowly placing the now quiet phone back to his ear the Dane responded, "Hej Finland."

"Dan, you stupid, idiot, god-damned Tanska! Sverige has been looking everywhere for you two! We thought you both were dead!" Well, it at least that confirmed one theory.

"Tino, I'm fine."

There was a sudden silence on the other end of the phone. "You're fine…? Is…?"

Mathias had a brief moment mild panic connected to such a loaded question, even if he knew what Tino really meant by it. Because really, no, Norge was far from okay. "He's alive."

A pause was brought between the two before Tino continued. "Mathias, where are you?"

Denmark looked around, "The Park, I think we're near the west side."

"Berwald's coming your way then." The Finn hung up without another word.

Slipping his phone into his pant pocket Mathias started walking. If Sweden was coming his way they'd eventually meet each other at some point.

…

Sweden could see Denmark almost a mile away in the snow, even with his dreadful eyesight. The Dane's tendency to wear red had its perks including being a distinct and bright color against a white background. Once he had seen the little red dot in his line of vision the Swede took off running in that direction. There were a million things that could have happened in that snowstorm. More than likely at least one of them had gone wrong, it was inevitable anyhow.

It didn't take him too long to reach his brother. Denmark didn't seem to be moving very fast if anything at a very light canter. He slowed to a stop, panting and easily ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs. Catching his breath, Sweden managed to call out.

The Dane stopped but didn't face him. Berwald circled around, finally facing the Dane. He looked distant and pale, so much different from the usual Denmark he had grown to know. Tired eyes that weren't quite focused on anything particular, lost in thought. Berwald gazed down at the coat that he knew covered Norway.

"D'nmark," he tried grasping the nation's attention to no avail.

Carefully Sweden removed the collar of the coat that covered Norway's face from view. The Swede had been prepared for the worst, a dead body that had yet to come back to life. He had no doubt that Denmark would bring the empty husk back no matter the cost or toile. He had been expecting a partially dead and still dying Norway, hidden from any prying eyes. Though, there were few here in the forest anyhow. But Sweden found that their Norwegian still managed to surprise him.

As he removed the collar he saw a sickly, frostbitten mess but a still very much alive Lukas lying limply in Mathias's arms. His eyes puffy and red around the edges, frozen tears to one side of his face, along with the patchy frostbite patches on his cheeks. He could even see the start of some on the back of the Norwegian's neck. There was no telling how bad he actually was from this angle, but he was alive.

Dan suddenly became aware of his surroundings, along with Berwald's actions and hugged Norway closer to his chest. A very instinctual action, driven by the Dane's panicky and drained state. Sweden didn't even have to try to look for signs of fatigue; he could clearly see the dark circles under Dan's eyes and his weak stance. He obviously hadn't slept very well, if at all. Then again, Sweden didn't have very much room to talk either.

It had been a rough night and a hectic morning. Berwald edged a bit closer to his brother, "Mathias, I'll take 'im."

Arms outstretched he watched the Dane shift Norway around in his arms. He wasn't very willing to give up Norway to him. Denmark frowned and sneered, "I can manage Berry."

Lightly closing his eyes and ignoring the mocking nickname, Sweden continued. "Get 'im help faster if I c'rry 'im."

"But…" Mathias looked like he was about to cry, voice cracking with every noise he made. "…but what if…?"

"He'll be fine w'th me."

Mathias clung just a bit tighter to his old friend; he felt Norway twitch and weakly try to push away from the Dane. He quickly released his grasp, realizing how painful it must have felt. Denmark took a deep breath and put the collar back up to cover Norway's face. Before reluctantly, slowly he shifted Norway into the Swede's arms, taking care not to hurt or further injure him. Sweden marked it down as one of the very rare moments where Mathias was extremely careful with anything besides his hair.

When Norway was finally wrapped up correctly and to Denmark's liking in his brother's arms did the Dane lean on Sweden for what he could only guess as a moment of rest. Something that would rarely be done between the two even when they were mere children. Berwald looked down on the Norwegian again, acknowledging how light and how small the nation seemed. He could only guess why.

…

The walk back to town wasn't very long but it seemed to take a century. Between Denmark's unnatural amounts of silence, Sweden's even higher amount of intensity and Norway's concerning state, it was basically a shipwreck. Nothing felt right, everything was completely off. It was almost to the point where no one would be surprised if all of a sudden Denmark's islands all melded together into an actual, single landmass.

Once the trio made it within city limits, Sweden had been very careful to avoid any form of human life. If only to avoid any suspicious onlookers or even a call to the police informing those of a terrifying man carrying a dead body. But even if this did happen the Swede would, of course, be released after a quick call to his handlers. That would take time though, time that would have been wasted on something so trivial.

Denmark refused to leave the Norwegian's side during this sneaking around as well. No matter how many times Berwald had snapped at the Dane to go to the building each time he refused. Only when they were about three-fourths of the way there did this argument finally cease.

It was only when all three of them had all safely entered their building did Sweden finally dial down his intensity level. Or, as Finland liked to put it, Protective Papa Bear Mode to Friendly Papa Bear Mode. Although Mathias never fully got it, and Emil and Lukas just didn't care, Tino still tended to use it if only to mock his husband.

Once Denmark had opened the door Sweden walked in, almost completely ignoring the Dane that continued to follow him like a lost puppy. Almost immediately he heard Tino rush down the stairs in a frenzied, cheetah-like movement. "Berwald!" Was the only warning the Swede got before he was hugged or rather squeezed the life out of.

"Tino, oxyg'n."

After a few seconds at the very least, Finland released his grip and quickly apologized. Readjusting the very limp Norwegian, Berwald mumbled a couple 'It's fines,' under his breath before making his way towards the stairs that is, before Mathias stopped him. The Dane jumped in front of him, still looking quite tired but a large amount of hostility etched into his features now. For a moment Berwald, as he looked at his brother, Sweden saw something akin to the old Denmark. The one that conquered without mercy, the one that wouldn't hesitate to kill him, the one that had killed him. Even as he stood there Sweden couldn't help but wonder if Denmark even knew what he was even angry about. "No, we need to…" The Dane started, only to be interrupted.

"P'tch 'em up here and take Lukas to the hospital, 'e'll be fine."

"But…" Mathias gave a slow, unfocused blink. Turning his head and facing the right wall for no particular reason. "But he won't be fine Berry; he's not going to be fine!"

"D'n."

"You don't know what happened in there!" Mathias kept staring at the wall, teeth grit and jaw set. The anger was quickly wiped away, replaced with sorrow and worry. He repeatedly blinked over and over, trying to rid himself of the tears he had promised himself that he wouldn't shed again.

Making a pitiful noise the Dane completely broke down. His legs giving out and in only a few moments he was on his hands and knees practically sobbing. Covering his eyes with his arm, rubbing away the salty tears that streaked down his face onto his sleeves. The wet, salty droplets finally falling onto the floor. Tino pulled back the corners of his mouth in a light frown, containing whatever overpowering emotion that ran though him right now into a corner.

Kneeling down and awkwardly wrapping his arms around the Dane's shoulders in a light hug. While giving a quick signal for Berwald to take Norway upstairs and patch him up. Sweden obeyed without a word, ignoring that fact that Tino was touching the Dane and the Dane was touching his 'wife'. But obeyed none the less, readjusting the bundled Norway and heading up the stairs.

Finland then found himself in a situation he never thought that he'd ever find himself in. Comforting a crying frazzled Denmark, finding out that one of his closest friends was in a depressive state and self-mutilating to deal with the pain. That, in turn, had started an intervention that triggered the same friend to run.

To make this into a nicely wrapped up package he had yet to call and tell Emil of this development. Why, because Iceland is very volcanic and, well, Iceland. He had no idea how to tell him of what had happened here, nor did he have any idea of how the Icelandic would react.

Finland felt the Dane calm and settle, completely passing out on Tino's lap. He'd have to carry him somewhere better to sleep, he probably needed it. There was no telling how long the Dane had been awake for.

TO BE CONTINUED…


	7. Chapter 7

Norway has never been surprised when he wakes up, never truly, but for a long time, he's been disappointed that he wakes up. Disappointed that he hasn't died sometime in the night, it would be peaceful, dying in your sleep. No fret or pain just slipping away quietly. He's seen humans die silently in their sleep. They do it all the time. The young and the old, weak and the strong, they all end up dying at some point.

Although, there are times when he thinks about dying with a purpose. Like in the olden days when warriors much preferred dying in battle than slipping away uselessly. But many times he rebounds back to his original, ideal way to die. Even if he knows it will never end permanently. His country, his people, his nation is well off now and it shows no sign of being occupied or shut down anytime soon.

Norway lolls his head to the side ignoring the throbbing pain that follows. He doesn't wish to open his eyes yet, it seems like it's been forever since he had a nice sleep without nightmares plaguing him endlessly.

The air is still, no wind blowing or branches creaking, almost completely silent other than his own ragged breaths. Just barely, he can hear some else's breathing over his own. It's even and has only a slight rattle to it every now and then. It's easy to determine whose it is, Denmark. The idiot's still here.

Slowly, the Norwegian cracks his crusty eyes open and looks into the shaded room. He's in the lounge upstairs, he had figured as much. The familiar sofa that sat up there with the dent in the middle cushion. It faces the west window, the view obscured by a dark, green shade, only letting small, rectangular beams of light into the room. It's only through those very beams of light he notices the amount of dust that has gathered in this room. He can see it quite clearly now, they're floating down and around in the air.

Norway can't quite remember the last time they had actually used this room for anything. It had just been kind of sitting up here for so long. Furnished with a mix of Danish and Swedish furniture due to the brothers' treaty, they were so childish those two.

There is something very odd about this, though. The last time he was up here this very couch was facing the door. And the door is on the east side of the room. He finds it very strange, but perhaps it is just that, strange.

It's probably the afternoon by now since the sunlight's shining in at him. He's not exactly sure how long he's slept but it's been a while by the feel of it. His joints feel stiff and his head is groggy. So he's fairly certain it has been a while at this point. There are parts of his body he can't really feel and there are parts he can where he wishes he couldn't. His heart… his heartbeat's abnormal now that he really focuses on it. Shuddering with every beat and his lungs are feeling tight and heavy. It's almost like he can't breathe.

Norway doesn't feel terribly warm either, but that's nothing really new. The mild shivering is new, though, and he's already realized that he's in some stage of hypothermia. It doesn't surprise him that much.

He's already starting to recover from it, his body mending itself with all it's got. He knows he shouldn't get up and he knows he really should just go back to sleep but he feels useless here. Norway moves his head again as the shaking intensifies; he's truly debating on how bad the pain is. It's only when he tries to move off the couch he realizes his mistake. Norway crumbles down to the floor in a heap of inability and pain. He feels the groan escape his throat before he can even contain it.

If he had the will to move he would probably curl up into a pathetic, little ball. But the light turns on and suddenly he remembers that he's not alone in this room. Denmark is here too. Then it only takes a moment or two before he sees the Dane crouching down and very carefully trying to pull Norway up. The Norwegian hisses through his teeth weakly protesting and trying to get Dan to stop.

His back must be frostbitten; it hurts too much for anything else. "Dan, stop," he whispers.

He does, softly placing Norge back on the carpeted floor. The Dane just sits there, cross legged and not saying a single word. It doesn't seem right, that, Dan being so silent. But he can't linger on it too long. He's too busy staring at his hand.

His arm too, they're both completely bare, which is strange. Since for one, he's contracted hypothermia and two… two he just shouldn't be without anything on his arms, especially around anyone. And he sees the angry red marks and the dark scabs. He sees the one and two-degree frostbitten spots that are only beginning to mend. And he realizes that his hand is completely useless.

He can identify the strategic wrapping that was to Sweden's ability, the kind that Berwald has done many times. Encasing his entire pinky, ring and partially his middle finger in the medical wrap, and he knows under that sickeningly white wrapping those two fingers are completely black. He can already tell from the tip of his pointer and thumb that those will be basically useless as well. The base of his hand is completely encased, probably to wrap the side of his hand that he knows is almost completely black too.

From his hand to the end of his wrist, he can't move, nor feel it. Norway knows that if he were to look at his feet and under the wrapping he's certain is there it would resemble the plague. Like his hands, he can't feel them either or move them for that matter. But it's not something that he wasn't expecting.

Norway looks back at Denmark silently. The Dane is still quiet and it's then that Norway, for once, wants him to speak, to say something. Because there's no way that Denmark can care that much about him, no matter what he may say because Norway knows him. However much Norway thinks that Denmark might care, it's all in his head. Just words…

"I can't leave you on the floor, Norge." It's barely audible; it carries a very sad tone to it, a tone he's not used to hearing from Dan.

But Norway remains silent, "It's going to hurt and… I don't want to hurt you anymore and I'm… I don't… I can't…" The Dane can't even finish a sentence.

Norway looks away and rests his head on the floor; he's knocked a couple of his scabs off. They're bleeding again, just enough to stain very small parts of the light gray carpet a dark red. A nation has afflicted these injuries, they won't heal like the other wounds. It will be slow and almost like a human's ability to heal. They will scar, like all of the others.

Idly he wonders why the bandages he placed on them earlier were now gone and why they hadn't been redone. But he supposes that the frostbite was a priority and there are only so many bandages in the first aid kit.

"Finland called Iceland about an hour ago," Dan mumbles.

Slowly Norway looks back at the Dane and he speaks. "What did he tell bror?" It's hoarse and scratchy, basically breathless but he doesn't care.

Denmark looks up from the floor he'd been staring at for quite a while. "Everything Norge, he told him everything."

In that moment it's all Lukas can do from basically screaming at Denmark for letting Finland do such a thing. It's not Iceland's problem, he doesn't need to know, it's not his burden and he doesn't even care. Instead, he simply looks over to the far wall.

"Ice is taking the first flight to Oslo, Nor, he's going to get a ticket to Trondheim and then he's coming here." There's something in his voice, excitement maybe, he can't really place it.

"Why?"

Norway is very aware he has startled the Dane with this. "Norge, please, you can't believe that, I know what you're thinking. We care, we all care, I carried you out of that cave and so did Svi. That has to say something; we do give a shit about you god dammit!"

"Are you certain?" He can't say anything else; he's finding that it's getting very hard to breathe.

That's when the tears well up in the Dane's eyes and that's when he knows that Dan wants to embrace him. That's when Dan truly wants to hug him tight and tell him that he truly does care and if it would make Norway feel better he'd cut his own head off here and now. But he can't hug Norge, because that would hurt his Norge and he can't hurt Norway anymore. He just can't, no matter what.

Deep down, Denmark knows what he's done to Nor. He was a fool to think that it wouldn't affect him at all. He was too stupid to notice how Norway changed because there was a time so long ago. So long ago that he can barely remember it, when Norway would actually smile. He had a form of happiness and wasn't totally without emotion. There are days when Denmark actually questions if this is something he made up in his head just to make himself feel better. There are days when he asks if they are truly, really real. But there's a part of him that knows they are real.

But it bugs him that he can remember exactly when Norway stopped smiling. It drives him almost completely insane at the realization that yes; he had hit Norge, many times. Most of the time it was never aimed at Norge, he just got in the way. But then suddenly Norway was no longer Norway, Norway was just a thing, an object, his object. It actually sickens him to think about it and he's so sorry for what he did but he doesn't know how to make it better.

Dan sucks in a breath, "Svi was thinking about going to your place in Trondheim. If that's okej with you of course. But it'd be easier for you to get better there and there's more space and stuff like that."

Norway just nods, he doesn't really care all that much anymore. Everything's getting to be a bit blurry at this point, he just hurts. The thought of sleeping is alluring but he doesn't want to. If he goes to sleep he doesn't know what will happen. Or rather he knows what will happen, he'll dream and he doesn't want to dream.

Denmark only takes a moment or two to nod back. Noticing his companion's weariness, takes the blanket that the Norwegian had previously abandoned on the couch and gently drapes it on him. He'll need the warmth. But he still doesn't know how exactly they're going to get Norway to his house, but they'll figure that out later though. Slowly he watches Nor drift off into sleep as Denmark gives a small grin before it changed into a small grimace. Still, not even in sleep does his friend look content.

Denmark stands and makes his way to his makeshift bed noting that the once completely shut door is now slightly ajar. He'll have to ask about that later. Eyeing the light switch, the Dane jumps up and shuts it off deciding to join the others if only for a moment or two. He won't leave Norge for very long, never again.

TO BE CONTINUED…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I got sidetracked.


	8. Chapter 8

Iceland considers himself to be a naturally, very calm persona. Most of the time. There have been exceptions to this rule, but most of the time he is a very calm persona. One of the exceptions to this rule is when he is rudely awakened at maybe three in the morning. Usually, he doesn't like to actually get out of bed until eight much less wake up until eight.

But no, his phone's having a meltdown screaming its head off to 'Dark In My Imagination', well more trying to scream it and failing. It's loud, though, and truthfully he doesn't want to answer it that much. It's Sweden's personal ringtone, hand-picked by Denmark for reasons he doesn't particularly want to think about.

And Sverige is calling him at three in the morning, so there're about two things that could be the reason why. Well, three actually, first off would be; he's drunk, two; accidental dialing which happens more than not surprisingly, and three; 'family' emergency. He's leaning toward the first one, but he's not terribly sure, anything's possible with this family. Finally, the ringtone stops and Iceland's left to the silence that is the room. Before… it starts up again…

This would be the sixth to seventh time and honestly, it's getting annoying. Groggily cracking one eye open and staring at the screen with resignation and a mix of if-you're-drunk-I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass. The Icelandic grabs the phone off the side table effectively ripping the charging cord out of the wall and onto the ground with a thud. Sighing, he answers.

"Whaaaa…t?"

There's a silence at the other end of the line. Then a lot of shuffling and muffled whispers before finally he hears Finland's voice echo through the connection. "Hej… Ice…"

"Finland, it's three in the morning."

"Oh, so it is…" There's that nervous laugh, the one that actually kind of annoys him.

Iceland rubs a hand over his face ignoring the blurriness that follows and the light huff that he receives for the action. "So, why are you calling me at three in the morning?" There's a hint of annoyance that's he's trying very hard to suppress. Finland's nice, he likes Finland, therefore he's not going to be mean to Finland, not because Finland can chop his head off but because he enjoys Finland…

"Um, well, funny story actually," there's that laugh again, lighter this time and longer but still there. "We were, um, eh, your brother… and er… well…" There's a very quick muffled noise in the background that's unidentifiable and before Iceland can get another word out Finland speaks again. If you could consider it speaking.

"WefoundoutthatNorwaywasdoingsomeselfinflictedinjurystuffandwetoldDanandwedecidedtodoaninterventionandNorwaykindofleftandDenfollowedandwelosthembothandwedon'tknowwheretheyareandthere'sasnowstormandandand…" The Finn took a breath, "So how have you been?"

Iceland's staring at the ceiling, Norway did what? And Den's… what!? Absent-mindedly he covers his eyes with his arm, oh god… oh dear god…

He didn't think that those were actually… he said he'd… and just… shit…

"I… I will call you back, Finland." Iceland swiftly hung up the phone and put it on silent in case the Finn decided to call him again.

Sucking in a sharp breath Emil goes over everything in his head twenty times over. It takes him a moment or two to realize that he's actually angry at his brother. So, why is he crying? Brushing the tears away in one stroke Iceland is reminded that he's not alone with a grunt from the warm body beside him. Reluctantly he's dragged into a bone crushing hug, mumbling into his back, "You want me to book you a flight?"

His voice cracks, "Ja"

…

Ice doesn't call Finland again until he's at the terminal at eight or so. There's a frantic laugh on the other end before the Finn declares that he is so happy Emil is coming to them. But then there's this little silence on the other end as Finland suddenly realizes that Iceland actually shouldn't know where they are. Finland never told him that.

So the question is raised, "Ice if you're at the terminal and going to a flight to Trondheim, how did you figure that out?"

The Icelandic grunts, finding a nice seat and plugging his battery life depleted phone in. "I had a friend trace your phone call."

Tino is dead silent, "Alright then."

Iceland hums, "My phone's dying so I'm hanging up on you so it can charge faster." There are no goodbyes after that except Finland's otherwise, it's just Emil hanging up and putting his phone in battery saver mode. He'd really hate for that thing to die at some random point in time.

Iceland leans on the arm of the chair blatantly ignoring the flock of young women passing him by and giggling their heads off. One of them is whispering to another that's he's 'utterly adorable' and she responds with a simple 'so cute'. All that really can go through his head at the moment is, 'I'm not cute, I'm Iceland, fear me.'

Of course, there's nothing to be really feared. He's lanky, has no real muscles, round-faced… he has volcanoes, that's about all that can be feared. Sighing and ignoring the fact that they sat quite close to him he brings up the situation in his head again. He'd known that Norge had been depressed for some time. It was actually quite obvious but not many people tended to acknowledge it over the simple fact that he'd just been, he'd always had a very similar demeanor anyway.

Not necessarily a depressing demeanor but more, silent and indifferent. The only reason Ice had even really realized or noticed that his brother was depressed was really more of an accident. And it wasn't something that Iceland hadn't become accustomed to, depression that is. All of the Nordics probably went through it once and a while, hell, probably all of the personas did, even he had times when he'd completely wilt and break down in his room. Hideaway for a couple days and just stay there. He'd talk to people, though. Kind of, it was more a bunch of uplifting texting with some of the happier nations. Then he'd be over it and be out and about again.

Norge though… he apparently just couldn't do that. Not even after Emil had just found him utterly defeated by his own mind and 'accursed' emotions. He refused to talk about why he'd been laying in a tub full of his own blood. He wouldn't say a word about it. But he had promised Iceland, his own precious, little brother, that he wouldn't do that again. At the time, Emil had actually believed that had meant not cutting anymore, no more suicide attempts and similar things. But no, apparently Norge had lied.

There was the possibility that Nor had actually meant that next time Emil wouldn't find him and what he had done… that could've been it.

Then there was the whole snowstorm thing, depending on the storm's intensity his brother could have easily slipped into the whiteout and disappeared. Possibly even frozen himself to death just to escape. Dan had apparently been stupid enough to follow and died as a result or he found refuge and is just waiting there. Hopefully, Denmark found refuge, because it would really a pain to have to reincarnate all the way back in your own country and then make his way back to Trondheim. That's just a pain in general and hard to explain to people if they see a body just kind of appearing out of the ground like that. Especially when you're naked…

It's not like you can pick a place either, usually, you tend to manifest in the center of your land or your capital… It can get awkward quite quickly.

Iceland glances at the small group of women again, most of them have stopped eyeing him and have retreated to their phones and computers. Idly he wonders if they're going to the same place he is or just a connecting flight. He doesn't know. Doesn't really care all that much either anyway.

He looks at the clock on the far wall noting that it's eight thirty now and his plane leaves at nine. Which means he'll be in Trondheim roughly… two to two and a half hours from now… so… eleven to eleven thirty-ish. So, that's not bad, not bad at all. All he has to do is sit through it, don't eat the airline food, don't accept any food from strangers and don't eat the brownies. Never eat the brownies.

Especially not the chocolate ones, but other than that… all he really had to hope for now was that none of the ladies would sit next to him. That's always awkward.

…

Finland hears the connection go dead and slowly rests his head on the table. Pushing the phone onto it as well. So, Ice is coming here. That should be good, right? Norway loves his little brother so he'll… it… Iceland can help him get better.

Tino rubs his temples, willing the oncoming headache to dissipate to no avail. Sweden's currently fixing Norja's wounds up. Finland's already checked out the bit of frostbite on Dan's hands and feet. They don't look that bad but they'll annoy him for a while until they fully heal. It should be easy for him and a fairly short recovery. Dan's not the type to heal slowly, not by far.

He's seen the idiot get his head chopped off and show up at Sweden's doorstep an hour later yelling at him for chopping said head off. He doesn't stay down for long. No matter what the injury or even the death. Sometimes it's a curse, sometimes it's a gift, it all depends on the situation and how you see it.

The Finn sighs, he's tired and taking a nice long nap sounds like an excellent idea. He hears footsteps and realizes that Sweden's walking back downstairs to where the meeting room is. Finland eyes the door and watches it open, revealing a very tired looking Swede. He sits down in the chair next to Finland without a word and just leans on the table with his elbows, back hunched over and head hanging. The bags under his eyes look like he's been punched, and his normally electric, blue eyes are dull and glassy. Actually, his glasses could easily match his eyes.

Neither of them really slept at all last night, it was more just laying there, waiting for the sun to grace the land so they could go looking for the two again. Finland had been worried about Den and Nor last night, but he was optimistic, he could worry about it but he also had high hopes that they would find Den and Nor alive and well. Berwald on the other hand… wasn't quite so high hoped. He had a tendency to expect the worst and prepare for it.

It wasn't that bad but it wasn't all that great either. It took its toll quite greedily. "So, how's he doing?"

"I think 'e woke up a c'uple of times. W'sn't v'ry coh'rent though."

Tino hums in affirmation, "And how's the frostbite and… you know…"

"Frostbite 's b'd but it will heal 'fter while. I r'n out of wrap so I couldn't repl'ce de band'ges on his 'rms."

Finland gives an inaudible sigh, hopefully, those won't get infected, and they'll probably be around longer than the frostbite will anyhow. "We could go back to Norja's house, we'd have more room and more supplies and he might have an easier time healing there than in the lounge. Plus our houses are a bit further than he is."

Sweden nods in agreement. Finland taps his fingers against the table, "Guess it's settled then. Iceland's one his way to Trondheim this morning, should take him four hours give or take and couple minutes. So we won't have to come pick him up for a while yet."

The Swede nods again, staring at the far wall with a dazed look. Right, so, his focus is completely shot. The Finn gives a slight frown, "You should go get yourself some sleep up in the lounge too, you look like you are about to pass out."

"Nej," Berwald takes off his glasses to rub his eyes before putting them back on again. "Den's up there too, 'sides I c'n wait until we get to the house."

"You better, I'll drug you if you don't." There's a slight smirk there, but it's actually a light hearted threat.

Berwald gives a light snort before suppressing a yawn, "I know you will."

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	9. Chapter 9

Denmark rubs his hands over his face, trying to ignore the oils that he'd just smeared onto his face. Human bodies are so strange. The Dane rubs an eye again and cracks his knuckles for about the fifth time in a row. It's oddly calming but after a while, it's starting to become painful. That doesn't mean he's going to stop doing it anyway.

He glances out the window, watching the scenery appear to fly by. Of course, there isn't much to look at besides houses and buildings. Quite boring. They're not even interesting buildings they're just there. No intricate details placed onto them, no uniqueness, just man made materials built from the ground up and maintained until they no longer have any use. Then after all the hardships through of which they've been maintained through, left to rot or be torn down by the same machines that built them. Because that's how mankind works.

Denmark furrows his brow, suddenly acutely aware of how depressing that actually sounded. You're supposed to be the happiest country in the world, right? So, where exactly did that spring from? He grins, he already knows the answer, because there can't be just happiness, there has to be some form of sadness. And they aren't bad emotions, there's no such thing as bad emotions. They're just emotions, you have to have all of these emotions in certain amounts otherwise… it gets a bit complicated.

Denmark casually glances to his right; Norway's there, slouched against the door, elbow resting on the door handle and head in his hand. His eyes appear to be half lidded and they've basically returned to a normal state of 'deadness'. The Dane would guess that the persona has fashioned himself another mask. Despite everything he still doesn't trust them enough to let his guard down. Denmark can't blame him, there've been times when their improve family has lost every bit of trust that was ever formed between them. Perhaps those times are what his Norwegian friend tends to cling to, as a reminder to not fully trust the people he loves.

The Dane looks to the front where Finland rests in the passenger seat, head lolling towards the driver's seat, escaping the world of the living and into the dreamless haven he's created for himself. Mathias can't help but to be jealous of it, not being able to dream, not being able to conjure up your worst nightmares. An admirable ability, Finny is strong like that.

Sweden looks at him through the rearview mirror. Denmark averts his gaze and looks out the window again. He wishes his subconscious was like that. Instead, he finds himself slaughtering the people he loves. But that's not what's terrifying, what's terrifying is that he enjoys it. The nightmares that he revels in, he hates them, but somewhere in the back of his mind, where the shadow of his former-self lingers. That part of him loves it.

In the end, when the life fades from the last one's eyes, he laughs and dances in the blood that's left behind. Throwing his ax and taking Sweden's head off, sometimes it's someone else's but most of the time he finds himself holding his brother's head from the ground. He holds it by his blond hair and stares into the dead, clouded eyes. He laughs and raises it to the heavens. He's so overjoyed about killing all of them, so proud of himself; he is now the true 'King of Scandinavia' and no one is alive to tell him otherwise.

When Denmark wakes up he's laughing, he's laughing so hard he can't breathe but at the same time, he's crying. Because he just did that to the people he cares about most in his pathetic life. Denmark is his own worst enemy.

Those are the nights when he doesn't sleep and he stays up trying to get out of the rut he's created for himself. Lots of classical music and hot chocolate accompany him those nights. Sometimes a bar, sometimes a bar fight and other times invading Norway's house. Maybe Ned's or even Prussia's if he's up for it. They always seem to make him feel better. Never to Sweden's and Finland's though, then he feels like he's not supposed to be there. It'd be almost invading them at this point and besides, he'd rather not show up drunk there and scare Sealand half to death. Even if the kid is tougher than he looks. He sighs, complicated lives… they all live such complicated lives. There is no simplicity until you're dead he supposes.

He quietly gives another sigh; he wonders if that's how Norway's nightmares go. But then again, no, Lukas probably dreams about something else entirely. In the end, he is right.

…

When they pull up into the drive, Denmark hops out and is swiftly rejected by Norway to help him. The Dane's crestfallen expression is noted by the Norwegian and through some silent form of communication, there's an apology. If only a small one, but Denmark understands… after all these years he finally understands some these little things. Norway limps to the doorway and unlocks it with a switch of his wrist. He bids the others come in.

Mathias is the first, followed by Berwald and with a moment of hesitation, Tino does, glancing to the West for some unannounced reason but he soon follows into the house. There's a silence as they all stand there inside Norway's home. No-one is very sure what to say, and even if they have an idea, they just can't put it into words… It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since Mathias and Lukas disappeared into the snow without a trace. If they had, to be honest with themselves the mild trauma of it hasn't quite faded yet. Everyone's still a bit one edge…

Denmark tries to crack his knuckles again, they don't pop, and instead he winces and slowly lowers his hands. Expectedly, he's the first one to break the silence. "…you two look like you're about to go into a coma."

Sweden just glares. Its effect is somewhat lost; the bags under his eyes just make him look utterly defeated. Finland looks less tired in a sense but he still looks exhausted. The Finn hums, "Yeah, we're a bit tired, I don't think either of us got that much sleep the other night… or the night before that. It's been a rough couple of days I guess." He smiles, the reassurance that they're both fine dripping away.

"There's a guest room set up, you could probably get some sleep in there." Norway's avoidance of eye contact doesn't go unnoticed. But both Berwald and Tino give it no further note, there could be a million reasons why.

The two slink away and hide away in the guest room. Happy to finally get some rest.

Denmark shrugs for no apparent reason and walks to the kitchen. Lukas whips his head around probably more violently than he intended. "What're you doing?"

Shouting louder than necessary, the Dane responds. "I'm making some coffee you grouch!" It's lighthearted, there's no real threat to it, and just trying to take away some of the intensity that's been flooding the house like a gas.

The Norwegian gives no response other than a quiet humming as he looks across the living-room. He can see it there on the floor, the dim light barely reflecting the cloudy gold surface, but he can also see the red stain on the wall. The one he'd left just yesterday… it wasn't that noticeable at first but once you saw it there was no unseeing it. Furrowing his brow, Norway limps over to the pin lying useless on the floor. He just stares at it.

It hasn't moved a centimeter or even a millimeter. It's still exactly where it fell, where he dropped it. Slowly he bends down and picks the relic up, running his thumb over the smooth surface. Stopping at a small scratch in the metal just above the end of the pin, shallow and curved upwards towards the other bar. He runs his finger over it, again and again, feeling the small, unnoticeable defect in the almost perfect surface. He doesn't remember when it got that scratch or even how. It's just been there for so long… but he just tends to forget about it.

Denmark pops his head from around the corner. "Get it while it's hot!"

Norway rolls his eyes, pocketing the clip. He limps into the kitchen and quickly fixes himself a cup before picking a place at the bar. Sitting on the other end of where the Dane resides. For once, the man looks oddly peaceful. Not like an overly energized puppy ready to jump up onto everyone he meets. The Norwegian decides this is a good look for him and takes a gulp of the dark liquid to this conclusion.

…

Denmark's daintily sipping his coffee when Ice texts him. Saying that he's at the terminal and waiting for pick up. He's two hours early, which is strange but Denmark gives it very little thought as he texts the Icelandic back saying he'll be on his way in a minute or two. Pocketing his phone again the Dane looks over at Norway.

The Norwegian's eyes are closed and he's just sitting there, perfectly still, coffee cup loosely placed in his pale hands. Only recently healed of their previous frostbitten form, his fingers look so thin now, almost sickly. Especially with the odd yellow undertone to them, the only sign of health being the red appearing at the edges of the finger pads. Denmark clears his throat and Norway lazily opens his eyes. "Ice is calling for a pick-up."

The Norwegian slowly blinks and takes a sip from his cup, "Okej."

Mathias gives a crooked half frown, "You know, Berry isn't going to let me take his precious Mercedes out… and… I dumbly left my car over at the conference building…"

Lukas raises a brow, eyeing the Dane carefully. He's all but bouncing in his seat. "Keys are on the shelf." He ignores the happy look of triumph that crosses Denmark's features. "Don't scratch it."

Denmark bounds out of the kitchen giving a goodbye grin as he grabs the keys and runs out the door towards the garage. Norway still doesn't understand the Dane's enthusiasm with his car.

…

Denmark giddily opens the garage door, switching on the light to reveal Norway's Dark Blue Tesla S. The dark frame huddled to the ground like a jungle cat ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Grinning to himself the Dane shuts the garage door and hops in the car, tossing the 'keys' in the cup holder and starting the Tesla up. It doesn't roar to life, it simply wakes up and is ready to go. It doesn't need to make a show.

Denmark grins again, opening the garage door and putting the car in reverse, sliding silently past Sweden's Mercedes. Getting to the end of the street he closes the garage door and takes off without much of a sound.

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	10. Chapter 10

In the end, it's the car ride back that really gets to him. Iceland's naturally very reclusive so compact spaces with another person, even one he knows and trusts, he tends to avoid. That and he's starting to crack a bit at the seams here. Dear god, he's starting to crack… what he wouldn't give for Denmark to start talking. Just say something funny… he's practically begging the Dane to at least say something, even if it is only in his head. The silence is too deafening right now and he forgot his earbuds so, dear gods Dan, just say something!

Despite this, the silence still drags on and for once, and it's Iceland who starts the conversation. "How have you been?" Mentally, he thanks his vocal cords for not cracking and waits for a response.

But, he isn't rewarded with one, he looks to Denmark and almost bursts into a fit of laughter, the persona is giving him the most confused and utterly terrified expression he's seen in a while. One eyebrow cocked and another raised to his hairline while his mouth is set into an inverted frown. If they weren't at a stop sign right now they'd probably be in a crash considering the Dane's completely abandoned looking at the road.

Swallowing his laughter Iceland gives a rather blunt, "What?" Mathias just continues his stare. The Icelandic waves his hand in front of the man's face, "Earth to Danmark?"

Silence, then, "…who are you and where the fuck is Iceland?"

…

Howling, that's all he can really hear for a moment, the wind trying to sing its powerful song. Until it softens and his vision clears. Now he can see the beauty that lies before him. He feels free, he feels peaceful, he feels like he's home. Everything is so surreal, the grass, the flowers, and trickling stream just beyond. He knows this place; he's been here so many times before. He knows this place so well and yet he can recall no recollection of where exactly it is nor where it could possibly stem from. Well, not entirely. As he looks beyond the stream and stares at the birch trees that lay beyond the skepticism is erased.

The Swede's mind wonders back to the scenery and he is drawn to the green prairies that reach into infinity. The tall grasses swaying and dancing in the breeze. A couple flowers here and there and even a few cattails lazing along the riverbanks. He takes a step forward, it momentarily throws him off kilter but he regains his balance easy enough. The haze disappearing from his vision once again, he takes another step, and then another. Suddenly, he's basically jogging through the tall grasses, down to the stream. The persona stops just as his bare feet touch the cold, wet sand of the banks. Sweden just stands there, admiring the clear waters and the small fish swimming around just under the surface. They're unaware of his presence and simply go about their business.

The wind picks up and Berwald's attention is directed towards something else. For a moment he's not entirely sure what it is, the image is blurry but the longer he stares the clearer it gets. It would appear to be a black pelted horse; it's galloping towards him for some reason. Its tail swishing back and forth, mighty legs pounding against the ground, and the beast's head swinging from side to side. But just as suddenly as it appeared it drops to the ground and vanishes. As he stares at the spot where it once stood high and mighty he begins to walk towards that very place. He ignores the black mud that's now plastering itself to his feet. He ignores the river that now seems to be more of a swamp, the scent of peat wafting into his nostrils. Now, here, he stands above a corpse. Rotted, dry skin peeling off the bones in droves, organs and muscle is torn out and eaten by animals and maggots alike. Flies pick at the rot while their offspring feast, tumbling over each other and crawling to the sickening meat.

The horse's jaw opens and out rolls a purple, green tongue. Slipping between ripped open lips and detaching to fall to the ground with a nauseating plop. The jaw moves again, breaking open the corpses' maw until it extends the length of the decomposing head. More maggots tumbling from the eye socket accompanied only by a watery blood. Sweden stares…the head lifts itself from the ground and those maggot filled eyes stare at him without truly looking at him. Perhaps it was never looking at him, to begin with.

Its jaw extends until it seems to break and hang against what's left of the animal's rotting neck. He can see the back of the throat now, the flies buzzing in and out of the beast's gullet. It takes a moment for him to realize that the horse is standing, still decomposing, but standing. From this exertion, its swollen stomach bursts allowing all the maggot filled organs to fall to the ground. The once useful and necessary appliances slinking to the ground, some still attached to the animal.

Momentarily Sweden is confused on why the beast still stands and why it chooses to look at him instead of lying there to rot. The head lolls to the side in confusion, staring beyond him and Berwald turns to look.

He could swear he can hear someone singing, he can't make out the words, but he can hear someone singing. The tune is eerily familiar. The words are just on the edge of the Swede's mind but he can't seem to grasp them, nor can he remember where he's heard them before.

And suddenly Sweden's very aware that he's no longer in a peaceful meadow anymore; the swamp has extended its dark claws to the grasses. He's looking at a darkened land, shrouded by the veil of night. Even then he can see small fires in the distance just beyond what his vision can make out. But as he turns completely he's met with something dramatically different. Dark blobs, lying in the dirt, people ramming against each other with scabbards in their hands. There's screaming, there's some yelling, but most of all he can hear the singing. The eerie tune drifting across the battlefield, it's deafening.

Sweden walks. He walks through the people attacking and killing each other, past them to an unknown destination. One man nearly guts him but he keeps walking, there's a shrill screech and Berwald swivels his head around taking in a very blurry picture of some kind of dark figure. He pays it little mind.

Then he finds himself looking at a small child. No, not a small child, not young necessarily but small for its age. Perhaps reaching the age of ten now, it sits in the bog grass and weeps, but most important of all. The child sings. With a voice like an angel, it sings a song about ships that reach far beyond the minds of mortal men. That reach shores that none have ever seen before. As the song goes on he switches the tune and now whispers the part of the song that speaks of these mighty warriors' demise and fall. It's that moment that he can hear the hoof beats again. Running at him, but he's too entranced to care very much. The longer he stares at this child the longer he starts to notice who this child is.

Berwald can hear the maggots fall to the ground. The horse's head now in front of him, it looks at him with nothing and he finds that this beast is indeed looking into him. Carefully, the animal gives a shake of its head and finally, the dislocated jaw falls to the ground infecting the grass below it until even the dirt is a dark sand. "WAKE UP!"

Sweden's eyes open with the command. There is no sign of a nightmare present on his rough features. Nor in his mind or self. He's just existing as he always has. But the restless memory of his dream still lingers in his skull, but the longer he reviews it in his head the more it seems that it makes little to no sense to him. Why that horse?

The persona rolls his head over to the side. Tino's laying there still, sound asleep and far away from the world of reality as he knows it. Probably running through daisy fields in his dreams or perhaps slaughtering dummies in that same daisy field. Either could be a distinct possibility. Finland has always been confusing like that, a paradox in its finest form. Sweden averts his eyes and takes back to staring at the ceiling above him before rolling out of bed. Snatching his pants from the chair on the way to the bathroom. He needs a couple moments to clear his head, preferably while taking a boiling, hot shower.

…

The Swede doesn't get out until his skin looks like he's been sufficiently burned and part lobster. Something he's found is rather refreshing for his cold ass climate. Especially when fall is transitioning into winter when that happens his entire body drops about ten degrees and it's dreadful for the first week or so. It's at those times that he joins Tino in the sauna more often than not.

Giving a quiet yawn that sounds more like a low growl, Sweden twists his back around enjoying the vertebrate pop and crack. God, he feels old, but as he glances at the mirror the thought strikes him that he's looking a little old too. His hair's not as vibrant a blond as it once was and very faintly he can see the lines in-between his eyebrows from his token glare. Ruffling his hair again with a towel he mulls over the irony that the two oldest of their 'family' are completely different in appearance. Well, Sweden allows himself a twisted frown, perhaps not completely different in appearance. He sighs; the whole age thing always just gave him a headache. In technicality, he and Norway would be the oldest since Dan wasn't exactly founded for a while, was inhabited but not as Denmark. But then again none of them were entirely sure of the timeline in itself and everything was indeed a blur back then. He just knows that the Swedish tribes and Norwegian tribes came along around the same time.

Stretching his arms up and twisting them around, Berwald feels his shoulders reset themselves and give a nice snap. It takes him a moment to realize that his knuckles just hit the ceiling. Whoops, lowering his arms he looks over the damaged skin before glancing up. Why exactly they decided to make ruff ceilings he had no idea but it certainly wasn't helping him any. Running his thumb over the scraped skin he's mildly annoyed that he just did that to himself.

A trickle of blood runs down the back of his hand as Sweden eyes the multitude of drawers, one of them has to have band-aids. He flicks open the top drawer and runs his eyes over its contents, he almost misses the small pack of razor blades. There's a moment when his heart sinks and his mind simply stops. Hesitantly, the Swede picks the case up and he feels a stinging pain in his fingers. Wincing, Sweden flips the case over and looks at the area just around his nails. There's a multitude of little cuts surrounding them and as he looks back into the drawer, below where the case had been, lays discarded razor blades.

He feels his eye twitch. They're all a little dull and some of them are even rusted but as he looks at the small drops of red on them he's very aware that these were never used for their intentional use. They were used to dilute the suffering of a nation made man. Berwald hates them for obliging to those wishes and as drops of his blood drip onto the floor he simply stares at these accursed mutilators. His hatred for them clear in his blue eyes, because in the end, the Swede can't find himself to hate Norway for what he's done to himself, what he has been doing to himself. But he feels the innate need to place the blame somewhere. Even on an inanimate object, it's very human of him, even when he knows deep down that in this mess he's also somewhere to blame.

Sweden carefully plucks every last one of the razor blades from the bottom of the drawer and puts them into an empty box he'd found floating around. He doesn't know what to do with them at the moment, other than throwing them away that is. But, he can't right now. For now, he'll just hide them until the time comes to actually discard them.

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our nightmares can hide bitter truths within them that perhaps we can never see.

In the end, it's the car ride back that really gets to him. Iceland's naturally very reclusive so compact spaces with another person, even one he knows and trusts, he tends to avoid. That and he's starting to crack a bit at the seams here. Dear god, he's starting to crack… what he wouldn't give for Denmark to start talking. Just say something funny… he's practically begging the Dane to at least say something, even if it is only in his head. The silence is too deafening right now and he forgot his earbuds so, dear gods Dan, just say something!

Despite this, the silence still drags on and for once, and it's Iceland who starts the conversation. "How have you been?" Mentally, he thanks his vocal cords for not cracking and waits for a response.

But, he isn't rewarded with one, he looks to Denmark and almost bursts into a fit of laughter, the persona is giving him the most confused and utterly terrified expression he's seen in a while. One eyebrow cocked and another raised to his hairline while his mouth is set into an inverted frown. If they weren't at a stop sign right now they'd probably be in a crash considering the Dane's completely abandoned looking at the road.

Swallowing his laughter Iceland gives a rather blunt, "What?" Mathias just continues his stare. The Icelandic waves his hand in front of the man's face, "Earth to Danmark?"

Silence, then, "…who are you and where the fuck is Iceland?"

…

Howling, that's all he can really hear for a moment, the wind trying to sing its powerful song. Until it softens and his vision clears. Now he can see the beauty that lies before him. He feels free, he feels peaceful, he feels like he's home. Everything is so surreal, the grass, the flowers, and trickling stream just beyond. He knows this place; he's been here so many times before. He knows this place so well and yet he can recall no recollection of where exactly it is nor where it could possibly stem from. Well, not entirely. As he looks beyond the stream and stares at the birch trees that lay beyond the skepticism is erased.

The Swede's mind wonders back to the scenery and he is drawn to the green prairies that reach into infinity. The tall grasses swaying and dancing in the breeze. A couple flowers here and there and even a few cattails lazing along the riverbanks. He takes a step forward, it momentarily throws him off kilter but he regains his balance easy enough. The haze disappearing from his vision once again, he takes another step, and then another. Suddenly, he's basically jogging through the tall grasses, down to the stream. The persona stops just as his bare feet touch the cold, wet sand of the banks. Sweden just stands there, admiring the clear waters and the small fish swimming around just under the surface. They're unaware of his presence and simply go about their business.

The wind picks up and Berwald's attention is directed towards something else. For a moment he's not entirely sure what it is, the image is blurry but the longer he stares the clearer it gets. It would appear to be a black pelted horse; it's galloping towards him for some reason. Its tail swishing back and forth, mighty legs pounding against the ground, and the beast's head swinging from side to side. But just as suddenly as it appeared it drops to the ground and vanishes. As he stares at the spot where it once stood high and mighty he begins to walk towards that very place. He ignores the black mud that's now plastering itself to his feet. He ignores the river that now seems to be more of a swamp, the scent of peat wafting into his nostrils. Now, here, he stands above a corpse. Rotted, dry skin peeling off the bones in droves, organs and muscle is torn out and eaten by animals and maggots alike. Flies pick at the rot while their offspring feast, tumbling over each other and crawling to the sickening meat.

The horse's jaw opens and out rolls a purple, green tongue. Slipping between ripped open lips and detaching to fall to the ground with a nauseating plop. The jaw moves again, breaking open the corpses' maw until it extents the length of the decomposing head. More maggots tumbling from the eye socket accompanied only by a watery blood. Sweden stares…the head lifts itself from the ground and those maggot filled eyes stare at him without truly looking at him. Perhaps it was never looking at him, to begin with.

Its jaw extends until it seems to break and hang against what's left of the animal's rotting neck. He can see the back of the throat now, the flies buzzing in and out of the beast's gullet. It takes a moment for him to realize that the horse is standing, still decomposing, but standing. From this exertion, its swollen stomach bursts allowing all the maggot filled organs to fall to the ground. The once useful and necessary appliances slinking to the ground, some still attached to the animal.

Momentarily Sweden is confused on why the beast still stands and why it chooses to look at him instead of lying there to rot. The head lolls to the side in confusion, staring beyond him and Berwald turns to look.

He could swear he can hear someone singing, he can't make out the words, but he can hear someone singing. The tune is eerily familiar. The words are just on the edge of the Swede's mind but he can't seem to grasp them, nor can he remember where he's heard them before.

And suddenly Sweden's very aware that he's no longer in a peaceful meadow anymore; the swamp has extended its dark claws to the grasses. He's looking at a darkened land, shrouded by the veil of night. Even then he can see small fires in the distance just beyond what his vision can make out. But as he turns completely he's met with something dramatically different. Dark blobs, lying in the dirt, people ramming against each other with scabbards in their hands. There's screaming, there's some yelling, but most of all he can hear the singing. The eerie tune drifting across the battlefield, it's deafening.

Sweden walks. He walks through the people attacking and killing each other, past them to an unknown destination. One man nearly guts him but he keeps walking, there's a shrill screech and Berwald swivels his head around taking in a very blurry picture of some kind of dark figure. He pays it little mind.

Then he finds himself looking at a small child. No, not a small child, not young necessarily but small for its age. Perhaps reaching the age of ten now, it sits in the bog grass and weeps, but most important of all. The child sings. With a voice like an angel, it sings a song about ships that reach far beyond the minds of mortal men. That reach shores that none have ever seen before. As the song goes on he switches the tune and now whispers the part of the song that speaks of these mighty warriors' demise and fall. It's that moment that he can hear the hoof beats again. Running at him, but he's too entranced to care very much. The longer he stares at this child the longer he starts to notice who this child is.

Berwald can hear the maggots fall to the ground. The horse's head now in front of him, it looks at him with nothing and he finds that this beast is indeed looking into him. Carefully, the animal gives a shake of its head and finally, the dislocated jaw falls to the ground infecting the grass below it until even the dirt is a dark sand. "WAKE UP!"

Sweden's eyes open with the command. There is no sign of a nightmare present on his ruff features. Nor in his mind or self. He's just existing as he always has. But the restless memory of his dream still lingers in his skull, but the longer he reviews it in his head the more it seems that it makes little to no sense to him. Why that horse?

The persona rolls his head over to the side. Tino's laying there still, sound asleep and far away from the world of reality as he knows it. Probably running through daisy fields in his dreams or perhaps slaughtering dummies in that same daisy field. Either could be a distinct possibility. Finland has always been confusing like that, a paradox in its finest form. Sweden averts his eyes and takes back to staring at the ceiling above him before rolling out of bed. Snatching his pants from the chair on the way to the bathroom. He needs a couple moments to clear his head, preferably while taking a boiling, hot shower.

…

The Swede doesn't get out until his skin looks like he's been sufficiently burned and part lobster. Something he's found is rather refreshing for his cold ass climate. Especially when fall is transitioning into winter when that happens his entire body drops about ten degrees and it's dreadful for the first week or so. It's at those times that he joins Tino in the sauna more often than not.

Giving a quiet yawn that sounds more like a low growl, Sweden twists his back around enjoying the vertebrate pop and crack. God, he feels old, but as he glances at the mirror the thought strikes him that he's looking a little old too. His hair's not as vibrant a blond as it once was and very faintly he can see the lines in-between his eyebrows from his token glare. Ruffling his hair again with a towel he mulls over the irony that the two oldest of their 'family' are completely different in appearance. Well, Sweden allows himself a twisted frown, perhaps not completely different in appearance. He sighs; the whole age thing always just gave him a headache. In technicality, he and Norway would be the oldest since Dan wasn't exactly founded for a while, was inhabited but not as Denmark. But then again none of them were entirely sure of the timeline in itself and everything was indeed a blur back then. He just knows that the Swedish tribes and Norwegian tribes came along around the same time.

Stretching his arms up and twisting them around, Berwald feels his shoulders reset themselves and give a nice snap. It takes him a moment to realize that his knuckles just hit the ceiling. Whoops, lowering his arms he looks over the damaged skin before glancing up. Why exactly they decided to make ruff ceilings he had no idea but it certainly wasn't helping him any. Running his thumb over the scraped skin he's mildly annoyed that he just did that to himself.

A trickle of blood runs down the back of his hand as Sweden eyes the multitude of drawers, one of them has to have band-aids. He flicks open the top drawer and runs his eyes over its contents, he almost misses the small pack of razor blades. There's a moment when his heart sinks and his mind simply stops. Hesitantly, the Swede picks the case up and he feels a stinging pain in his fingers. Wincing, Sweden flips the case over and looks at the area just around his nails. There's a multitude of little cuts surrounding them and as he looks back into the drawer, below where the case had been, lays discarded razor blades.

He feels his eye twitch. They're all a little dull and some of them are even rusted but as he looks at the small drops of red on them he's very aware that these were never used for their intentional use. They were used to dilute the suffering of a nation made man. Berwald hates them for obliging to those wishes and as drops of his blood drip onto the floor he simply stares at these accursed mutilators. His hatred for them clear in his blue eyes, because in the end, the Swede can't find himself to hate Norway for what he's done to himself, what he has been doing to himself. But he feels the innate need to place the blame somewhere. Even on an inanimate object, it's very human of him, even when he knows deep down that in this mess he's also somewhere to blame.

Sweden carefully plucks every last one of the razor blades from the bottom of the drawer and puts them into an empty box he'd found floating around. He doesn't know what to do with them at the moment, other than throwing them away that is. But, he can't right now. For now, he'll just hide them until the time comes to actually discard them.

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	12. Chapter 12

Norway has found that there are a few times now when he feels truly free. But this time, this is one of those moments when he does. Yes, it's true he's no longer an oppressed country but even when he gained independence he didn't feel entirely… free. In fact, he found that he felt almost compressed, the full weight of being a true country again nearly crushing him at the time. It was painful, it was abrupt and he didn't have time to readjust. So, in the end, he just kept going, he kept going through everything now that he thought about it.

He'd have to guess that this was one of the many factors that lead him to be, well, this.

Not taking his time to readjust, digging up ancient memories and playing them over and over until he's given himself a migraine. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, dismal and gloomy idea of what life truly is… huh, he was one messed up cookie. Norge could nearly laugh at the idea. Messed up cookie, who in the hell thought that one up.

But enough about that… how about recent events? The office building, the woods… the cave, the last couple days in fact. All a blur of events and confusing instances filled with emotional turmoil and odd aches. Now that he thought about it, what really started it all was after Sealand spent the night. At the time he thought nothing of the night the young persona had wandered into his room asking for comfort. Perhaps he should have. Norway had in no way thought about what he was wearing that night nor the scars that engulfed him. He probably hadn't given the boy enough observant credit.

That's probably how Dan and the others had even been given the idea that Norway had been doing that to himself. And yet… he can't find it within to really be mad about that. If he had to be honest with himself his ability to cope isn't the greatest and he'll admit that he probably should have actually sought out help before this. Despite that, Lukas still finds that even if they hadn't have found out… he would have never gone out looking for help. He will admit that much. The idea is there just not the motivation. He won't die from his injuries; he won't succumb to death like a human. No, he would have kept on living, so truly there was and still is little risk in cutting himself to death.

Even if it is a bit… crude.

…

He walks in the back door, shuffling off his snow-covered boots and shrugging off his jacket. Gently placing the wetted piece of clothing on the rack. Norway admits, he feels better now that he's had time to think about everything. Allowing himself to assess the reasons for the others concern. Even then he's still trying to hang onto the idea that these people these… personas care for his well-being. Not daring to let the malignant tumor of an idea take hold. Or perhaps that's the truth and he's deluding himself… so confusing, so tiring… so very lifelike. So, much confusion and contradictions that there is little to no room for things that truly make sense in only a single, straightforward way.

Frustrating… but something he's lived with for so long there is no other way and hoping for another way of life is simply foolish of him. Norway gives a slight shake of his head, pinching the bridge of his nose at an oncoming headache. Noting the fact that he probably should have eaten something before he left. None the less…

The door opens, as if on a cued timing, and Norway notes the sound of two sets of footsteps coming in, their owners closing the door behind them. If he had to guess he'd assume that those footsteps belonged to Dan and Ice. Further, inspection only confirmed his theory as he snatched a bagel from the cupboards. Although something told him that he wasn't going to be able to eat said bagel right now.

Iceland gracefully walked his way into the kitchen, a rather satisfied looking Dan following behind him. Probably, decently refreshed from the car ride and long moments of silence to ease his more than likely raging thoughts. But, at this moment, Norge wasn't interested in Denmark, no, he was more focused on Iceland's eyes. Their cold, intense disapproval and anger that lingered in those purple orbs. Those feelings he'll always try to hide, despite the situation. Not once though, has he ever been able to truly hide these emotions from Norway though. Those pesky repressed things.

Then again, Lukas will admit, he wishes he couldn't see what he sees now in those eyes of Emil's. Because just beyond the disapproval and anger lies something deeper, something he'll always have a hard time dealing with. That being, guilt and pure unrivaled betrayal that's so deep he feels as though he'll drown in it. And Norway cannot condone that he and only he, is to blame for those bits.

His eyes though, those beautiful purple eyes are asking him a question though, one he can't ignore anymore. Asking him, "Why? Why would you lie to me?"

Despite it all, Norway can't find an answer within himself that would satisfy the purposed question. Not now or perhaps ever.

And suddenly after what seems like no time at all. After a quick supper and little tidbits on a conversation here and there. After Sweden and Finland leave to go back home. After the sun falls beyond the horizon it's just them. It's just the three of them. Their 'aftermath' family. The one that they fucked up so bad that in the end, it was never worth saving. Or at least that's the conclusion that Norway had come to after so many years.

No one can find a single thing to say, not after such a short time. It gets late and everyone's tired, so silently, without so much as a single glance exchanged, they all go to their rooms and retire. Except one it would seem. Except for the one who is overcome with guilt and perhaps a form of confusion.

…

Norway awakens when the lightning strikes and listens for the heavy roar of thunder that follows. For once he wakes up without a sense of urgency or fear coursing through him. This time, he finds that he's awoken by the feeling of someone watching him. Which in itself is slightly terrifying but this is a familiar gaze he feels. Someone, he knows very well, someone he's known for so long that he would nearly call them one in the same. Even if they are not.

The lightning flashes again and the room lights up to reveal a slumped Denmark kneeling next to his bed. Face first in the covers but not asleep. Norway stares, compelled to ask what Dan's doing here, despite already knowing. He doesn't say a word before the Dane lifts his head and looks at Norway with a solemn eye. Lightning illuminates the room yet again and it's long enough for the Norwegian to see Dan's eyes and how red they are. Giving away how long he's been weeping in silence.

Unsmiling and clearly unhappy with everything that has gone through his head. It was unnatural; it was as if the world itself had stopped turning altogether. It just wasn't right, incorrect. Norway curled further into himself as Denmark ran his lanky hands over Norway's arms. The Dane just kept repeating the process over and over. Staring at them with almost empty eyes, "Dan?"

The persona didn't respond, gently grasping the Norwegian's arm and moving it to better see the marring marks that ran up and down the arm. New and old, scarred and fresh. Had Norge all done these? All of them, except, except… the Dane ran his hand to where Lukas's wrist began. Carefully running his pointer over a very specific scar there.

It was old, very old, and darker than the rest though and ran around where the hand ended and the wrist began. Bits of the scar being darker than the others. Under the thumb was one of the darkest, just under where the bone juts out, looking almost like an uneven circle. There was a similar scar on the opposite wrist and lighter looking ones on his ankles. He knew these scars well. He traced the scar again, feeling the uneven, deformed skin and knowing that Norway had not done these. No wonder the Norwegian wore gloves to meetings.

"Dan," Norway spoke again.

Mathias finally looked the Norwegian in the eyes, only for a moment though, before finding the very last scar he was looking for. It was small compared to some of the others, wider than the rest and redder in color. Maybe three centimeters long and maybe two in width. Residing on the persona's neck just over the color bone and directly above the jugular. Norge didn't do that one either, he did, he did those to Nor.

Denmark looked away, allowing his hand to go limp and fall to his side. He was about to drag his other hand away from the nation's arm before it was snatched. "Denmar-… Mathias."

The Dane finally looked in the eye, watery, puppy dog eyes and a frown on his supposed to be smiling face. He's the happiest country in the world and he's frowning. And Nor feels something go through his chest, a slight pain. He's frowning because of him. It's his fault.

Norway grasps the lanky hand a bit tighter ignoring the flickers of pain it brings him to do so.

Rubbing the digits that he has come accustomed to holding from time to time. He knows these hands well, he knows where the bones have been broken time and time again, and he knows where the skin has been lost and healed over. The ruff callouses, the wrinkled lines, the writer's wart and the crooked end of the middle digit. Forever still writing letters, how old fashioned of him. And yet, Norway could still feel the strength of a warrior in these hands, even if he no longer fought humans. "Danmark," and despite everything he dared not look Mathias in the eye, "I will never forget what you did to me or the suffering and bloodshed you inflicted upon my people."

Lukas manages to tilt his head up, looking the Dane in the eye with something he was not well known for, a passionate gaze. Denmark broke away almost immediately, "I wouldn't…"

Norway knocked the Dane in the temple for starting the sentence before reconnecting his gaze. "But I'm willing to forgive."

For a moment there was only shock on Denmark's face before it was replaced with a small smile and small tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, "Norge~"

Norway gave a weak glare, "If you start crying again I'll smack you." His voice laced with hints of an actual threat.

Dan didn't care; he broke down into tears and embraced Norway as if he was some sort of Teddy Bear as if he was the last lifeline. "Agh!"

"Norge, I love you so much!"

…TO BE CONTINUED…


	13. Chapter 13

It must be nearly seven or eight when he wakes up. In fact, as he rolls his head over to face the alarm clock he’s surprised to see that it’s actually almost nine. Norway groans. Of course… daylight savings… no wonder.

A small shift of the body beside him brings the Norwegian out of his silent grumbling. This is perhaps the second time this week that he’s woken up with the Dane next to him. But then, probably the first when he’s actually looked at Denmark when he woke up. For a moment he simply lets that sink in. Letting his mind dwell on the fact that in this very moment, for the first time in quite a while, he feels fine with the Dane next to him. Sleeping in the same bed. Trusting one another enough to allow such vulnerable moments to be within reach of each other.

The idea, he supposed, was something he hadn’t thought of in some time. Not since before the last world war in fact. Even then, he didn’t welcome the thought at the slightest. But none the less, Norge had to admit that Denmark lying next to him, so quiet and peaceful was something, he dares say, enjoyed. It was so different from his normal aptitude. Well, take away yesterday and the last couple of days… those being something that had altered his emotions to the point where the poor persona was nearly a train wreck. Whether the ex-viking would admit it or not. The sore lack of glee in his eyes had been plainly present and even when Norway found himself at a point of in-between consciousness and unconsciousness he could clearly see that.

But now, right now that is, they look at him thoughtfully. Mulling over something so strange in his head, so new and foreign. Perhaps it is guilt or forgiveness of one’s self, Norway does not know. They don’t reflect much else to him and he’s tempted to ask and Mathias looks tempted to tell. But he says nothing, a quietness has taken him, one that he hasn’t let rule for a long time. Thankfully, the Dane doesn’t seem sad or at the very least tearing himself apart. He’s just there, thinking and staring.

Norway wishes he would stop that but before he can request it, Dan’s hand entangles his own. Fingers gently wriggling their way between pale, healing digits. Grasping at knuckles and hanging onto them tightly as if he’s almost scared that Norway will flee. There’s no possessiveness to the action though, not like when they were younger countries with little to think about other than conquering another’s grounds. There’s a plea in the movement a way he touches the skin and allows for his eyes to show one thing. To say, “Stay” with all their wideness and silence. Lukas finds it odd that for once in his life Denmark manages to say something without uttering a word or opening his mouth.  
They stay like that. They stay like that for hours. Just lying there in the silence and the sunlight of the oncoming day, thoughts run through their head but at the moment they simply enjoy the other’s presence more than anything.

It’s probably eleven or twelve when they drunkenly wander down the stairs. Still feeling drained and the kind of tired you can’t sleep off. Finding a place in the kitchen where Iceland is staring at them haphazardly. Eyeing his brother with a sort of skepticism in his violet eyes. Watching his movements, evaluating and calculative. It’s a look Dan has rarely seen and he can’t help but start to giggle under his breath. That added to the dark circles that are under the younger persona’s eyes and Norway is aware that the younger was up all night. And from the way he watches him, he’d assume he was worried about his brother or at least thinking about him.

He would almost call it fretting the way that Iceland subconsciously starts doing things here and there for Norway. The boy had been scared, for whatever reason he’d been damn near terrified. But Lukas wasn’t about to pry right now. Not while everything is still fresh and on the surface. Instead, he pours a pot of coffee and enjoys what he can of it. As the kitchen fills and people begin to shuffle in for food and drinks everyone simply settles in silence. Tired, awkward in the slightest and suddenly alive to the sight of the sun rising higher above their heads.

There are jokes, there’s flirting, there’s smiles and there’s laughter. The smell of eggs and toast, not the mention of milk and orange juice. Norway feels like he’s a family again, like how they were at just before the union and at the beginning of it. He doesn’t think of hatred at that moment, nor pain or sadness nor does he feel hollow and empty inside. There’s happiness around him and caring people who love him.

There are people there to help and there to help him cope. He doesn’t have to be alone anymore. He feels the dampness in his eyes grow as he watches them and as an arm slips over his shoulder and a whisper of comfort slips into his ear he allows himself to curl up against the Dane. “I’m alright,” Norway mutters, “I’m better than that actually, I’m loved.”  
…FIN…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell that took way too long to finish and I am sorry for that hella long a** delay. This doesn’t even make up for the time. Probably doesn’t even wrap it up nicely but it’s where it’s ending. I may add on later to make it a little more nicely put up in a bow. But for now. The end is here, I’ve done it.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT, REVIEWS, FAVES AND FOLLOWS. YOU’VE ALL HELPED ME THROUGH THIS AND MANAGED TO KEEP THIS GOING ON. HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY AND KEEP ON KEEPING ON!
> 
> ~EarlyMorningMassacre~


End file.
